


Until the Moss Had Reached Our Lips, and Covered Up Our Names

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dubious Consent, Human Names, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Incest, Multi, Power Dynamics, Smoking, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 41
Words: 319,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a city filled to the brim with gangs, all the territory split between them, peace has lasted for the past sixteen years. It's a tentative peace, won after the last massive gang war reshaped the entire city. Except all it takes is one domino to fall, and the Vargas patriarch is dead, leaving behind Antonio to lead his house, who isn't even his blood relative. With an untried Head, the balance of power has started to shift again, and it seems as good a time as any to start calling in old debts and revenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For When I Forget

Feliciano Vargas dipped his brush into a bit of red paint and applied the oil-based media to the canvas, the painting done more from memory than anything.  He probably could have found photographs to work from, but this piece needed a less rigid touch.  Placing the brush in paint thinner he stepped back as the door to the room was yanked open and his twin's harsh voice came from behind him, "There you are.  Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

The smile Lovino received was like sunlight coming out from behind a cloud, "A long time?"

"Damn right.  That bastard Antonio's due back any minute and—" He broke off, his eyes narrowing at the painting, "What do you want to go and paint him for?"

Feliciano glanced toward the canvas again, where it was clear that the portrait was of their late grandfather, "I wanted something that reminds me of how I remember him.  For when I forget."

"Sentimental," Lovino muttered, shifting uncomfortably and looking away to avoid seeing the art for any longer.  "He's gone and the House is turning on its head because it's changed hands—not even to someone of the same blood."

"It's not like either of us were going—"

"I would have.  If he'd taught me half as much as he taught you.  But you'd rather just focus on your art," the darker-haired twin snapped in reply.

Even before the end of Lovino's sentence had died, Antonio poked his head into the room, brown and wavy hair a mess. "Could you be harder to find?" he started to complain, about to launch into a speech about coming home with no one to greet him and how that broke his heart but his eyes were drawn to the painting instead and his jaw clicked shut.

Feliciano's eyes widened and he picked up a cloth which he draped over his easel quickly, hiding the painting and hoping it didn't actually come in contact with the covering.  Lovino scowled at Antonio, snapping to pull attention off of his brother's art and by proxy off of Feliciano.  It was stupid to have art of the previous Head of the Family around where the current Head could stumble on it, "Do you want me waiting at the door like some needy pet dog or something?"

"You'd look so cute waiting there though," Antonio said but there was no punch behind his words.

Lovino managed a half-hearted snarl at that, still wary as to how the new leader was going to choose to react, "Because I'm here to be 'cute'."

"It could be one of your duties," Antonio said, something more like a chirp entering his voice. "Along with shooting things."

The smaller man tensed at that, "Like hell.  Just try it, asshole."

"You could be really adorable if you tried," Antonio managed, running a hand through his already chaotic hair.

"Shut up," Lovino snapped.

Feliciano finally spoke, his voice light, "He's right, _fratello_.  It wouldn't take much."

"And then I could be just like you, wouldn't that be so much fun?"  Lovino replied, acerbically.

"Hey," Antonio said slowly. "Don't be like that, Lovi."

Lovino shot him a dark look before offering a mirthless smile that was sharp around the edges, "How should I be then, _Signore_ Carriedo?"

Blinking once, Antonio sighed, shaking his head before looking at the other twin and offering him a tired smile. "It's a very nice painting," he managed. "I'm sure he'd have liked to be memorialized by you." He glanced at Lovino again and pushed off from where he'd been leaning against the door frame with one hand and started backing out of the room.

Feliciano returned the smile, " _Grazie_ , Antonio."  He shot a glance at Lovino who seemed to have receded, his arms crossed too tightly to be anything but defensive.  Lovino felt both their gazes and moved quickly, shoving past Antonio and retreating down the hall.  The other twin sighed and shook his head, looking toward the Head of the House again, "I'm sorry Lovi's acting like that.  It's not your fault."

Watching Lovino's back, Antonio shrugged before glancing at Feliciano again. "Well, it's not your fault either," he said, though considering the painting it might well have been. "I'll see you later," he added and trailed after Lovino. "Is there someplace you're trying to get to in such a hurry."

Lovino spared him barely a glance as he turned a corner and headed for the firing range, "Just seeing to one of my duties.  You said it was shooting things, right?"

Antonio pulled a face. "Isn't it though? I never made you train in guns; that was your own choice."

"It's what I'm good at," his voice was blander than normal, the words had no pride behind them, no anger, but bitterness hid in the syllables.  "What do you want?"

"Did I have to want something? You're good at cooking too," Antonio pointed out.

"Why else would you be following me?" Lovino responded, ignoring the second comment as he pushed through the doors to the range.

"Because I like watching you move," Antonio said, laughing as if it was a joke.

Lovino froze at that, going absolutely rigid as his cheeks colored.  His temper frayed a bit further and he shot Anotnio a look that he half-hoped would cause the other to burst into flames, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Antonio stepped forward, tapping a finger on Lovino's chest. "You work for me. It's all in the family now, isn't it?"

The other man backed up a solid step in response, "Don't touch me, bastard."  He turned to grab a gun and take aim at one of the targets, but found his hands were shaking too much and he lowered it again. Goddamn useless, he thought.

Antonio tried not to sigh again. What he wanted to do was press forward and tuck his chin on Lovino's shoulder, supporting his hands and smoothing away his anger. Instead he brought the hand that had poked the other up to wrap around the crucifix he wore. "What's wrong?"

He raised the gun and steadied it with his other hand before emptying the clip in the direction of the target, he didn't even have to check to know more than half the shots had missed, "Nothing."  Nothing he couldn't deal with.  It wasn't as though he had been close to his grandfather, he knew where he stood in relation to his brother and the bond that the artist had with the former Head of the House.  Nothing was wrong.  It wasn't like he was stretched and pulled in multiple directions trying to remain loyal to his thoughts when he didn't know what they were and balance it with the change of power.

Antonio considered the target and looked back at the other. "Would you like to try that again?" he asked, meaning the answer to his question but implying the target practice as well.

Lovino reloaded and took aim again, his hands fractionally steadier as he emptied another clip, waiting until the last echo died before he shook his head, "Why would I?"  Two thirds of the bullets had found their mark from that round—several actually finding the target's heart.

Antonio looked significantly at the target and then back. "Because it's really obvious you were lying."

"Why would anything be wrong?  Feliciano's painting like usual and you seem to be running the House just fine.  If you're able to keep alliances at least," Lovino muttered, bringing the target in and replacing it with a fresh one before he reloaded.

"Feliciano is painting something that could get him into trouble, your grandfather just died, and you're currently missing your shots which, considering your position in this House is a bodyguard and gunman, is alarming," Antonio ticked off, not touching on his ability to keep alliances.

"Is it going to get him in trouble?" Lovino replied, three quick shots finding their mark on the target, followed by three more—two of which went wide as he felt a slight tremor go through him at what could happen if the answer was 'yes'.

Antonio paused, considering. "I can't have people questioning my authority less than a month after the old Head's died," he said finally, slowly.

Lovino set the gun down carefully, knowing that turning with it in his hand would be seen as a threat and possibly something that could get him killed.  He kept each motion controlled as he turned toward Antonio, his expression unreadable and his voice even, "That's not what he was doing, is doing. He, he misses our grandfather.  If you had more than a second to look at what he's got done on that portrait you'd see that.  It's not a painting of a leader, it's a portrait of the man who taught him how to mix colors to make a sunset look real." 

He could feel himself shaking, a desperate need to communicate how little threat this was to Antonio.  He didn't trust the man, he never really had, and he certainly didn't trust him with his brother's life, "Feliciano doesn't always think, but, but he just misses Grandfather Vargas.  It-it's not a questioning of your authority or anything like that."

Antonio paused for a long moment, blinking once before letting out a long breath. "I _know_ that, Lovi. Just don't let him hang the thing up where people can see it. Because things I know and believe aren't the same as other people and if someone else saw it who knows what they'd think—probably that I was weak for letting it get past me. Your brother's an art student, I get it. Just don't hang the damned thing on a wall."

Lovino glanced away at that before he nodded a muscle in his jaw twitching, "I'll talk to him.  You know, if you'd sit for him, he'd probably do one of you."  He picked up the gun again and fired at the target, each shot hitting where he intended.

Antonio snorted, scuffing the toe of his boot on the concrete ground. "He'd paint anyone willing to sit still long enough."

"For you it'd be something that really communicates who you are, or are supposed to be, though," Lovino replied, finishing off the third clip before setting the gun to the side to let it cool before he could dismantle it to clean it.  "He likes you."

"Unlike you," Antonio said and wished he hadn't.

Lovino tensed and he wished he didn't have to wait to have something to do with his hands, "Should I like you?"

Shrugging, Antonio's expression didn't change. "So you think if I sat for him it'd be a good painting?"

"I think it would be the sort of thing that could be hung on the wall," Lovino answered without answering.

"Think you'd like it?" Antonio asked, noticing the lack of real answer.

Determining the pistol was finally cool enough, Lovino started to take it apart systematically, "I don't know.  Feli's a good artist, so I usually don't mind his work.  It would be a very moving piece, make you look like all sorts of a leader.  Like someone who deserves to be in the position of Head."

"You make that sound like people say I shouldn't be," Antonio remarked.

"You're young.  You're not my grandfather by a long shot.  You haven't done a lot to prove to anyone that you're ready for where you're at," Lovino replied, offering him a glance as he cleaned the gun.  "But like I said Feliciano likes you, and people like him which gives you a leg up from where you could be."

"I'd still rather you like me," Antonio said, a shade wistfully.

Lovino's hands stilled for the briefest of moments before he returned to his work, "Prove that I've got a reason to and I'll think about it."

"You're rather brash, aren't you?" Antonio managed, looking back at the target.

He froze like a cornered animal at that, fearing he'd crossed several lines and wouldn't be able to back up over them again.  Might as well lay it all out, though, "I don't think you can fill the shoes you're stepping into.  At all, honestly. But, but you stepping up kept Feliciano safe.  So I'll give you a bit of credit there."  Or at least lay out his opinion on the other's position, "You're the Head of the House, and as long as you are then my bullets are meant to protect you.  And they will."

"You seemed rather to think that position could have, perhaps should have, gone to you," Antonio said, taking half a step forward, having given no indication earlier that he'd heard Lovino's statements to his brother.

Lovino's eyes widened at that and he backed up an equal distance, "I'm less liked than just about anyone here.  It would have been complete stupidity to put me in that position.  And I sure as fuck don't have the training for even the smallest part of it.  Could it have gone to me?  Yes, I'm his eldest living relative.  Should it?  Not if the Family was to survive."  His temper over his brother's painting had faded and he knew he was walking a knife's edge for his words if he didn't want to seem like he was undermining Antonio's authority—which he wasn't trying to.

Watching him, one of Antonio's fingers tapped against the crucifix he was wearing, a nervous habit he really needed to rid himself of. On the other hand, some people saw a threat in the motion rather than a tick that showed he was uncomfortable. "We'll all just have to be more careful then, don't you think?"

The younger man nodded once, trying to keep his voice steady, "I think that would be wise."  He paused for a long moment, putting the gun away and leaving the range.  He always carried a couple of weapons on his person, but outside the range was far more Antonio's domain than his, "Are you keeping the old alliances?"

"Are there any you would disapprove of?" Antonio asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked beside Lovino, his stride easy and relaxed.

Lovino considered before he shrugged, "Not, well, not really.  I mean I was never much aware of anything beyond who not to shoot.  Tentative neutrality with some of the other Houses has been good—the English House for instance.  The Germans have been good allies at least."

Antonio laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Well, the Germans have been steadfast. And it's best to keep things from getting too stirred up."

"You've got personal allies in the German House, haven't you?" Lovino asked, glancing at him.

Antonio laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

Lovino tugged on a lock of his hair, trying not to think about how that laugh made him feel, "I should go talk to Feliciano about that painting."

"If you like," Antonio said and paused, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "Tomorrow there's going to be a meeting with the German House. Try to have you good aiming abilities on display, just in case."

"I can't outshoot Zwingli," Lovino cautioned, "Just so you're aware."

"Who can?" Antonio asked, looking closely at his face.

"No one in our House," came the quick response.  "I don't know about other Houses, there's a chance that one of them has a better marksman, but no one here can."

"So just do your best," Antonio said with a bright smile, clapping Lovino on the shoulder before withdrawing his hand quickly and retreating. Lovino watched him go, blinking after him in shock before he shook himself and went to relay the directions for the painting to his twin.

o-o-o

Glowering at his coffee, Sadiq once again wondered how his life had come to where it came. He had a cheap bottle of allergy medicine from a hole-in-the-wall pharmacy next to one elbow and a pack of cigarettes on the other side of the cup of coffee. Looking up and down the street he sighed again before taking another sip of the coffee. The small cafe he sat in front of had a bright red and white umbrella stuck between some of the scattered outdoor tables.

A shadow fell across his table, the blond standing next to it arching a thick eyebrow.  "Do you have any idea what that medicine will do to you?  Or frankly what may have been introduced to it depending on where you got it?"

"You just don't trust the system, Arthur, because you've poisoned it so much," Sadiq said, tilting his head back.

Arthur's lips curled upward before he slid into the chair across from the other man, "Well, I think that's an entirely legitimate reason not to trust it."

"Which is why you're sitting here and now eyeing my coffee," Sadiq said with another sip of it.

"I was going to offer the list of toxins that can be concealed in that, actually," Arthur responded as he waved down a waitress and ordered a cup of hot water and separate tea bag.

"I'm sure someday I'll drop dead and I'll be able to blame you," Sadiq drawled. "What brings you out here?"

"I can't simply be enjoying the weather?"  Arthur responded, "You're out for that bitter drink and allergy medicine?"

"Coffee is not bitter," Sadiq said, protecting his favored drink that was currently the only thing he and Heracles agreed on. "Besides, this is way far out to be out in the weather."

The blond accepted his water and tea bag, making his own tea as he shrugged, "But the beauty of enjoying the weather out here means the delight of your company, my dear Sadiq."

"I thought we'd gone far beyond the phase of seeking out each other's company," he murmured, watching Arthur through narrowed eyes behind the white mask.

Arthur tested one of the sugar cubes on the table before putting it in his tea, "Perhaps so.  Yet here we are.  I was actually hoping to talk a bit of business, now that I've seen you."

"Which means you came looking for me to try and slip in business while pretending that it was entirely casual and thus not actually business," Sadiq said, leaning his elbow on the table and affecting a casual manner. 

"Actually I came over here and when I saw you I figured it was a good opportunity to talk business," Arthur corrected.  "After all, there's not much else we have to talk about."

Sadiq's eyes narrowed again. "Why are you here then? What possibly brought you this far from your city center?"

"I don't know that it's relevant, actually," he was not inclined to admit that he had at least partially come to see Sadiq because it had been too long since he'd seen the other.

"With you? It's always relevant," Sadiq said and shook his head. "So, which House is getting your panties in a twist now?"

"Which one isn't is probably a better question.  Though primarily it's the Germans at the moment," Arthur replied, sipping at his tea. "The Russians are a concern too."

"The Russians have been a concern for the past fourteen years," Sadiq pointed out. "But what have the dear Germans being doing?"

"Slowly moving their borders further into my territory, and information indicates that they'll be starting toward your borders in short order. And with the Spaniard taking over control of the Roman House, I can't deal with both of them and my own House."

Sadiq tried not to laugh. "Not to say Antonio and I haven't had our differences—" such as the time he had pegged Lovino as the heir and kidnapped him, only to have Antonio blaze to the rescue, "—But I thought you'd like the chaos that comes from a new Head stepping up."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, "Normally I would say that I do.  The problem is that I had agreements with the former Head, and in case you missed it, Antonio and I do not exactly get along which means my agreements are likely to come to pieces following this change."

"He likes Francis, who works with you," Sadiq said after a beat before he smirked. "He really doesn't like Alfred though."

"Well, it's _Alfred_.  And liking Francis only does so much for me when Francis isn't the one working out the terms of neutrality, doesn't it?" Arthur replied, frowning at the man across the table from him.

Sadiq shrugged, still sipping his coffee. "Did you want me to say something helpful?"

"I'd like confirmation that our terms of neutrality still stand so I'm not dividing my attention to yet another front as well."

Sadiq blinked once and then laughed. "So you did have a motive. I was wondering when it would show its face."

Arthur's lips curled upward very slightly at that, "Took long enough for you to ask a question I'd offer it for."

Sadiq rolled his shoulders. "I'm enjoying the sunshine and coffee. I was in no rush, I knew I'd get it eventually." Considering the bottom of his empty mug though, he gestured to the waiter for another.

"And now you have."  His gaze flicked to the medicine on the table, "If I recall your allergies consist of cat dander and that's just about it.  How many felines are you having to tolerate now?"

"Six," he said, seeing not reason to lie. "He picked up another one two days ago. It's a big house and yet they always seem to find my bedroom."

"It's because you exude an aura of not liking them," Arthur responded.  "I'm certain if you at least tried to tone that down you would see less of them.  Have you tried closing the door?"

Sadiq gave him a long look. "Yes, I've tried closing the door, am I stupid? If it's not my bedroom, it's my office, if it's not there, it's the damned kitchens, and I have cat hair in my coffee. So you want assurances that our pact still stands then?"

Arthur hid his smile behind his cup of tea as he nodded, "That would be my preference, yes."

"And if I decide the Germans have a lot more to offer me?" Sadiq asked, tilting his head.

"You know they'll steal you blind and leave your carcass for the birds and vermin of the town," Arthur answered, bluntly as he set his cup down.

Sadiq only laughed at him. "No, that's what you'd try to do."

"I'd have the decency to see that you got a good burial and a lovely headstone and you know that," Arthur replied with a mirthless smile.

Sadiq hummed. "It would say something like, 'here lies a sneaky bastard who got what was coming to him.' No thanks."

"Actually I was thinking something more along the lines of, 'here lies the only man in this city worth half a damn, pity he never tested his coffee for cyanide'.  Or something along those lines," Arthur shrugged.

Sadiq's eyebrows went up slowly. "I'm worth even half a damn? That's so sweet, coming from you."

"You're one of the few I've encountered who holds to his bargains," Arthur explained dismissively, setting his empty teacup aside.

Sadiq hummed, clearly believing that. "If you say so, Arthur dear."

"I do say so, _darling_.  Though you still haven't answered my question about whether our pact still stands."

"Haven't decided yet," Sadiq said, tone idle. "When I do, I'll be sure to let you know. You might even consider coming during normal business hours."

"I have my own House to see to during normal business hours, though," Arthur replied.  "We can see about renegotiating the terms, if it comes to that." He rose, offering his hand to Sadiq.  "It was good to see you."

"I'm sure it was," Sadiq said, shaking his hand and clearly not looking like he believed the other man in the least. "I'll keep negotiations on the table."

"Good day, Sadiq. And good luck with Heracles' cats," he touched the brim of his hat, set down money for his tea, and left the cafe to return to his own district.

Watching him go, Sadiq sighed after a moment, before shaking his head and rising as well. Even the sun didn't seem to hold much pleasure for his afternoon anymore.

o-o-o

As he walked down the street toward the meeting with the Germans, Lovino paused when he heard his name.  He turned, looking over his shoulder and paling when he saw his brother, "Feliciano, what the hell are you doing here?"

"My class was cancelled and I was told that if I didn't have class I could come along to the meet—as long as I don't interfere."

Lovino shook his head, trying to hide his panic, "What?  No, you can't do that."

Feliciano looked at him for a long moment, "Lovi, please.  I'll be safe, you'll be there, and the Germans are our allies aren't they?"

"Allies is a half-truth."  He glanced at his brother and sighed, realizing that he was unlikely to win this.  He scowled and pulled out one of his guns, handing it to his brother, "What have I taught you?"

"I don't have anywhere to put that."

"That's what your book bag's for, idiot," Lovino muttered.  " _What_ have I taught you?"

"Headshot's are impossible, aim for the torso."

"And?"

Feliciano thought for a moment, "If you hit the torso fire twice more, three shots should be enough to take the biggest down."

"Good."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Feliciano spoke again, "Lovi?  What do you mean by biggest?"

"The crazy Beilschmidt.  And probably Jones.  If it's Braginski you empty the clip and fall back to reload so I can empty mine, got it?"  Lovino fixed his brother with a long look.

"Two clips?"

"Two clips and probably two or three for his bodyguard as well."

"And then another clip into him," Antonio said, coming up beside the brothers and looking over the facade of the restaurant where they were meeting. "Braginski should not be present however."

"Should hope not, I've only got enough reloads for the Germans," Lovino said, glancing at Antonio.

"Please don't shoot the crazy Beilschmidt," Antonio added before pushing the door open and pausing. "What is Feli doing here?"

Lovino blinked at him, dropping his voice, "He told me he'd been cleared for it if he—damn it did I really buy that?"

"You really did," Antonio said, stepping inside and looking around before seeing the Germans already at the table. "It's too late now though." Later he wanted to know why the younger would have wanted to come.

Lovino nodded very slightly as Feliciano stepped up next to him, a pace behind Antonio.  The elder twin assessed who was there for the Germans. Otho Beilschmidt looked up as Antonio and the twins approached. On his right sat Ludwig, his hair slicked back, Gilbert next to his younger brother and leaning his elbows on the table. "It's good of you to have come," Otho, Head of the German House greeted.

Vash Zwingli stood behind the other three, leaning against the wall and looking half asleep though his green eyes were sharp under his half-lowered lids.  Lovino settled next to Antonio as Feliciano sat down carefully next to his brother, his attention scattered when he set eyes on Ludwig.

Ludwig looked away from his brother and noticed Feliciano, blinking once.

"Thank you for arranging the meeting," Antonio replied, not adding that considering his position he could hardly have refused to come. 

Lovino saw his brother's expression and kicked him under the table.  Feliciano startled slightly, but turned his attention back to the meeting. Vash's attention locked onto the Italian twins, glancing toward Ludwig and arching an eyebrow under his white hat.

For a while, Antonio and Otho exchanged pleasantries, vague disclaimers as they tested each other on a new footing. Mostly Ludwig managed to pay attention to his grandfather, who had been a contemporary of the elder Vargas. But every once in a while he would shift his eyes back to the brown-haired man across from him. At one point Gilbert noticed and he flopped his head onto his propped up palms. 

Lovino divided his time between listening to the negotiations and watching Zwingli carefully.  Feliciano shifted every few minutes when his brother would kick him to distract him from looking at Ludwig far more than he should.  The younger twin knew he was going to have a bruise on his shin by the time they left.

At one point, noticing how often Lovino was kicking his brother, Antonio reached under the table, putting a hand on Lovino's leg to try and still it. Lovino froze, but reached under the table and pinched the back of Antonio's hand hard to get it off his leg his expression never changing. His smile becoming more strained, Antonio just tightened his hand on Lovino's leg before withdrawing it. Listening to the others talk, Feliciano dropped his gaze down to the wood grain.

Except his eyes kept flickering up, and he watched Ludwig before glancing toward the other German brother and considering him quietly before dropping his gaze again, wishing he had a pencil and sketchpad that he could have out.

Pulling at his brother's arm, Gilbert started saying something quickly into Ludwig's ear, making the younger smile before they both straightened and smoothed their faces out, Otho ignoring whatever antics the brothers were getting into.

Lovino's expression darkened slightly and Feliciano glanced toward the brothers across from them, his elder brother murmuring something under his breath in Italian.  His tone was even, but the words were chewing Feliciano out and the younger twin made certain to keep his expression smiling rather than reacting though he felt the German guard's eyes on them.

Having peacefully ignored the drama unfolding around him, Otho rose suddenly, and both pairs of brothers focused on him, having not realized how far the negotiations had gone. Color appeared on Ludwig's cheekbones for having been so distracted. "I have another meeting to attend to. I believe we have plenty to continue with later though, and I believe our alliance stands."

Antonio grinned. "I'm glad to hear it. I know your relationship with my predecessor was... strained on occasion."

"To some extent," Otho agreed with an incline of his head, blond hair sliding across the back of his neck. "The world is different without him, but you seem to be worthy successor." He glanced at Gilbert and Ludwig. "You won't be needed for the rest of the evening. Do as you wish."

Vash finally straightened, prepared to leave with Otho no matter what Gilbert and Ludwig decided on.  Lovino meanwhile caught his brother's wrist ready to drag him out once Antonio determined it was time to go.

Watching Otho leave, followed by Vash, Gilbert grinned over at Antonio the instant the door was closed. "Look at you acting like an adult."

"I am an adult," Antonio protested, grinning.

Lovino had risen as soon as Otho had left, but paused when he realized Antonio was staying.  He knew better than to leave at that point, but he considered that it was probably far better to drag Feliciano out—or it would be if his twin didn't twist his wrist away and pull out his sketchbook to finally start on the drawing he'd been wanting to do the entire meeting.  Lovino muttered something sharp under his breath at that, slumping back into his seat.

Ludwig's attention was suddenly split between making sure his brother didn't destroy an alliance and trying to figure out what Feliciano was drawing. "Gilbert," he said, warningly, but he was looking at the moving pencil across the table.

His brother laughed, the sound hissing. "I wasn't doing anything. Compared to the other shit I've done to ‘Tonio anyway, I'm sure nothing I could say would make an impact."

"I thought we all promised to never talk about that," Antonio frowned, not even having to ask which incident Gilbert meant.

"He wasn't the Head of the House then either," Ludwig said. 

Feliciano looked up from the sketch he was working on, "But, that doesn't change who he is, does it?  I mean, it's a different position, but..."

"But he could," Ludwig started to protest and trailed off when he realized who he was talking to and stopped with a blush.

"It's too bad we couldn't get Francis here," Gilbert mused.

"He's trying to suck up to Arthur again," Antonio shrugged. "Which is probably a good plan in his long run. So, are we ever going to order an actual meal or did you choose this meeting place to just tease us?"

Ludwig's blush gained a smile from Feliciano as he turned back to his sketch.  Lovino got a look at the sketch and turned his glare toward the blond across the table. The younger twin spoke again, "What sort of food do they offer here?"

"A variety," his brother muttered.  "Like most places in this city."

"The wurst is good," Gilbert remarked and Ludwig just blushed more.

"And their fettuccine?" Feliciano asked, his attention turning to Gilbert.

"If they've got it, or anything like it it'll be like what else you can get outside of the district," Lovino answered.  "So bland and over-soaked in whatever sauce they put on it."

"Lovino," Feliciano's voice was quietly disappointed and it just caused his twin's expression to darken further.

Ludwig ducked his chin down and Gilbert just laughed. "Oh come on, Lovi, smile. Besides, wee Lovi, you could try something new."

Gilbert at least managed to draw Lovino's attention away from glaring at either Feliciano or Ludwig.  Feliciano looked a bit flustered at that and a bit embarrassed as he answered, "I tend to be picky when I eat."

"Ever try something German?" Gilbert leered and Ludwig startled, looking over at his brother in horror.

"Gilbert!"

"Why are we friends again?" Antonio asked the space between himself and Gilbert, making the albino laugh again.

Feliciano blushed deeply at that, which only got worse when Lovino started swearing roundly in Italian at the albino across from them.  Once he'd regained control of which language he was speaking in, Lovino leveled Gilbert with a glare, "Bastard.  Why would he want to?"  Though he'd seen the sketch his brother was working on—which was now covered by the fact that Feliciano had turned the page to start drawing what looked like still life based off of the items on the table.

"Gilbert, be nice to Feliciano," Antonio protested.

"It, it's fine, Antonio," Feliciano said with a smile in place, though the curve he was working on was shaky and he had to erase it to try again.

"Ignore my brother," Ludwig said finally. "He just says stupid things to see how much of a rise he can get." Instead of saying anything else, Gilbert muttered something vague as he ran a finger around the top of his glass.

Feliciano met Ludwig's eyes and offered him a genuine smile at that, "It's not so bad.  He seems...friendly at least."  He elbowed Lovino as the elder twin muttered something harsh in Italian.

"Perhaps overly so," Ludwig said, shifting slightly at Antonio and Gilbert started having a rapid-fire conversation about wine choices with an odd mixture of guns involved. "What are you drawing?" Ludwig asked after a moment.

"Huh?"  He felt his cheeks coloring again before he remembered that he'd started on the still life, "Oh, just what's on the table really."  He turned the sketchbook so that Ludwig could see it better and saw Lovino's aborted motion for the paper as he did so.  Lovino muttered something else and excused himself from the table to step outside for a few minutes—causing Feliciano to relax ever so slightly.

When Lovino rose, Antonio's attention snapped toward him, cutting off midsentence and making Gilbert laugh again. "You know that's really—"

"Shut up," Antonio muttered as Ludwig smiled at Feliciano.

"It's a lovely drawing," he said quietly.

Feliciano returned the smile brightly, "It's just a rough sketch, more something to do while I talk than anything.  It keeps me from moving my hands so much, which is a problem because when I'm sitting next to someone then I sometimes accidentally hit them because I talk with my hands so much."  He stopped speaking abruptly, his cheeks coloring yet again as he realized he'd started babbling.

Ludwig smiled again. "It's nice to have something to do with your hands."

Antonio and Gilbert stalled again, both of them looking over. "You were going to say something about me being pathetic?" Antonio offered.

"Ugh, I take it back."

Either not hearing them or ignoring them, Feliciano offered Ludwig a dazzling smile, "What do you like to do?"

"Do?" Ludwig frowned, considering. "I don't usually do that much outside of business."

"He has no life," Gilbert added helpfully.

"He's just got a different sort of life," Feliciano defended before turning back to Ludwig.  "Have you never taken the time to relax?" 

"I like to sit by myself sometimes," Ludwig said. "With a book or something. I find that relaxing."

Feliciano blinked at that but smiled, still fishing a bit, "So you like reading then?"

"Yes," he said with a nod and an almost smile. "Quite a bit."

"What do you like to read?"  Feliciano barely noticed when Lovino came back in.  The older of the twins scowled at Ludwig, watching his brother's reactions to the blond.

"I don't know, anything really," Ludwig shrugged. "I just want to understand what a person is trying to say with their writing. It's easiest with philosophers of course."

Feliciano smiled at that, "Philosophers?  Those are always interesting.  What did you read recently?"

"I've been working on Kant," Ludwig said and Gilbert groaned beside him, gesturing to the waiter.

"Please bring me something to get really drunk," he said and Ludwig's head finally whipped away from Feliciano.

"What? Brother, we still have to get home."

"And, Feliciano, don't you have things to get done?" Lovino finally spoke.

Feliciano shook his head, "Nothing due until next week."

"Due?" Ludwig asked, Gilbert supplying the waiter with orders for all of them, something with tomatoes for Lovino since he knew the other would probably lose his mind before the end of dinner. "Do you go to school then?"

The younger twin nodded, "I'm in art school, second to last year."

"Art school?" Ludwig asked in surprise.

Feliciano nodded, his expression lighting up again, "Yes, it's something I really enjoy and the professional training is helping smooth out the rougher edges in what I'd already learned which is nice.  There's some techniques we've been working with lately that I hadn't ever tried before that are really excellent and," he broke off at a look from his brother and nodded again, "So, yes art school."

Gilbert leaned over the table. "How on earth did he come here?"

"I'm actually still trying to figure that out," Antonio murmured back as Ludwig just blinked before smiling faintly.

Lovino muttered something dark under his breath before glancing at Antonio and Gilbert, answering quietly, "He's better at lying than he looks, and somehow found out the time."

"Or he's just very good at lying to you," Antonio said and Gilbert ducked his head down. Lovino's jaw clicked shut at that and he went back to glowering at Ludwig rather than respond.

"What sort of art do you do?" Ludwig was asking as the food arrived, Antonio leaning over Lovino to reach the salt.

Feliciano pushed the salt a bit closer to Antonio's hand as he answered, "Whatever comes to mind, mostly I like to work with oils and I prefer portraits."  He paused, "Though my style tends to be a little out of date."

"By a few centuries," Lovino muttered, earning a mildly reproachful and hurt look from his twin.

"Sometimes the old styles are best," Ludwig said. "I read authors who have been dead that long after all."

Withdrawing, Antonio paused with his arm still stretched over Lovino's chest. "What's got you so bothered?" he asked, tone low.

"The first sketch he was doing," Lovino replied honestly, though barely audibly.

Feliciano offered yet another smile, "I could polish it up to make it look more modern, but I like the Renaissance style more than what's commonly popular now."

"What's popular now changes so often too," Ludwig said. "A few years ago you might have been painting colored boxes."

Antonio considered the rest of the table, drawing his hand back but still speaking so that only Lovino could hear him, his mouth hovering close to his ear. "Was it of Ludwig or something?"

Feliciano's nose wrinkled at that though, "I know it's art, but where's the technique in that?"

Lovino nodded once, "After staring at him all meeting—when he wasn't looking at the table anyhow."

"It was bound to happen," Antonio pointed out as Ludwig smiled again. Gilbert gave his brother an annoyed look before turning back to Antonio and how he was leaning into Lovino.

"Oi, ‘Tonio, you seducing your bodyguard in public or something?"

Antonio jerked upright and away, laugh a shade too high pitched and for the first time all night he wanted to touch his crucifix to remind himself it was there. "What? Don't be silly, Gil."

"For the love of god don't call me that," Gilbert snapped.

Lovino went red at that and sunk further into his seat, glaring at Gilbert though his attention was drawn away as Feliciano finally took a bite of food.  There was no noticeable change in the younger brother's expression, but Lovino caught the slightest hesitation as Feliciano went to take another bite—not to his taste again then.  Feliciano's attention was fully on Ludwig, "So you said you were reading Kant.  I don't think I've read him."

"He's a philosopher," Ludwig managed, his attention for the moment on Gilbert and Antonio before dragging it back to Feliciano. "Do you do much reading? I'd really rather not bore you with Kant."

"I spend most of my time painting or drawing, but I read a bit."  He offered another devastating smile, "I don't find it boring when y—" he cut off, and narrowly avoided yelping when his brother pinched him hard under the table.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked in alarm and Antonio kicked Lovino under the table.

"You're going to cause a scene at this rate," he hissed.

"Bit my tongue," Feliciano lied to reassure the blond.  "I was just saying I don't think I'd find it boring if you were explaining it."

Lovino swore viciously under his breath in Italian at that and abandoned his meal to exit the restaurant again before he said something that shot everything to hell. Ludwig blinked at that abrupt exit and Antonio sighed, pushing his chair back. "Excuse us a moment," was all he said before taking off after Lovino.

Feliciano sighed very softly, "I'm sorry about Lovi, he's not handling things really, well, all that well right now."

Lovino was leaning against the wall of the building outside and seriously considering lighting up a cigarette to give himself a timer of sorts before he would have to go back inside.  He glanced toward Antonio exiting the restaurant and shook his head, "I've got nothing to say."  Making a decision, he withdrew a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lit it up.  He didn't smoke often, but today was one of those days.

Antonio sighed, leaning against the wall next to him. "You're jealous."

"Jealous?"  Lovino looked at him like he'd grown another head.

"Of your brother," Antonio offered. "Or because he's smiling at someone else like it's the easiest thing in the world."

"I'm not jealous of Feliciano," except he was.  He always had been, it just stung more than usual with the bright smiles and the way they caused color to rise in Ludwig's cheeks.  Feliciano could make friends, or more, with just about anyone, and Lovino couldn't even make peace with his brother and the Head of their House with any consistency.

Antonio sighed again, plucking the cigarette out of Lovino's hands, taking a drag and handing it back. "Then what's so wrong?"

Lovino looked at the cigarette and handed it back to Antonio, "Keep it.  Nothing's wrong, I just don't trust other houses."

"Why does Ludwig bother you?" Antonio asked, not taking the cigarette back.

Stubbing out the cigarette rather than finish it after Antonio had stolen it, the smaller man scowled, "He's all wrong for Feliciano and it'll end badly for all involved."

"You don't know that," Antonio said, looking at the cigarette a shade mournfully before tapping his crucifix. "Opposites attract you know."

Lovino lit a second cigarette, watching Antonio warily because he wanted to actually finish this one, "He reads philosophy to _relax_.  That is not the sort of person who can make Feliciano remotely happy.  Besides, he's high-ranking in the German House.  What happens to Feli when he loses him to that?"

"Being high-ranking certainly does have its drawbacks," Antonio agreed, watching Lovino and his cigarette closely.

Lovino took a long drag, exhaling slowly, "I'll behave, I just need a couple minutes."

"You sure?" Antonio asked, thinking he should have just turned away and let it sit where it was.

"I'm sure, go back to your friend and keep an eye on Feliciano," Lovino replied, voice even.

Antonio opened his mouth, wanting to protest, something about the description of Gilbert feeling off to him, but he nodded and slipped back inside. Lovino watched him go before letting his shoulders slump and slowly finishing off his cigarette.  He stood outside for a few minutes and finally built up the resolve to return to the table, settling quietly between Feliciano and Antonio and resolving to ignore both of them as he attempted to eat his meal which had started to go cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings are likely to be added as we proceed, and the warnings may change as well, just as a caution. We're never quite sure when we first enter a story what it's going to look like at the other end.
> 
> This work was inspired by this forum: http://darkguns-hetalia.forumotion.com/
> 
> Title taken from an Emily Dickinson poem 
> 
> Character names list:
> 
>  **Roman House**  
>  Ancient Rome - (Grandpa) Vargas  
> Spain - Antonio Fernandez Carriedo  
> South Italy - Lovino Vargas  
> Netherlands - Lars  
> Portugal - Alfonso Carriedo  
> North Italy - Feliciano Vargas  
> Belgium - Bella
> 
>  **English House**  
>  England - Arthur Kirkland  
> America - Alfred Kirkland  
> Scotland - Cameron Kirkland  
> France - Francis Bonnefoy  
> Australia - Liam Kirkland  
> Canada - Matthew Kirkland-Williams
> 
>  **German House**  
>  Germania - Otho Beilschmidt  
> Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt  
> Switzerland - Vash Zwingli  
> Austria - Roderich Edelstein  
> Liechtenstein - Lili Zwingli  
> Hungary - Elizaveta Héderváry  
> Prussia - Gilbert Beilschmidt 
> 
> **Mediterranean House**  
>  Turkey - Sadiq Adnan  
> Greece - Heracles Karpusi  
> Egypt - Gupta Muhammad Hassan  
> Cyprus - Stefan Kyriakou  
> TRNC - Timur Kyriakou
> 
>  **Asian House**  
>  China - Yao Wang  
> Japan - Kiku Honda  
> Hong Kong - Leon Wang  
> Taiwan - Mei  
> Macau - Sheng Chen  
> Vietnam - Suong Thị Phan
> 
>  **Russian House**  
>  Russia - Ivan Braginski  
> Lithuania - Toris Laurinaitis  
> Latvia - Raivis Galante  
> Estonia - Eduard Von Brock  
> Ukraine - Yekaterina Braginskaya  
> Belarus - Natalia Braginskaya  
> Bulgaria - Zhivko  
> Romania - Sergiu
> 
>  **Nordic House**  
>  Denmark - Matthias  
> Norway - Sigurd  
> Sweden - Berwald Oxenstierna  
> Finland - Tino Väinämöinen  
> Iceland - Eirik
> 
>  **Latin House**  
>  Argentina - Eva  
> Brazil - Carmen  
> Colombia - Ricardo  
> Chile - Sofía  
> Ecuador - Eduardo
> 
> **African House**  
>  Zambia - Haazita  
> Cameroon - Nkomo  
>  
> 
>  **“Unaligned”**  
>  Poland - Feliks Łukasiewicz  
> India - Nataraja Patel  
> Wales - Ioan Kirkland (Deceased)  
> New Zealand - Kate  
> Thailand - Kasem Jainukul
> 
> Characters with no direct Nation counterpart  
> Acardi  
> Rodriguez  
> Jacqueline Abbot  
> Richardson


	2. He's Just One Man

Arthur paused on the steps to the mansion that made up the base of the Russian family.  He had left his weapons with his guard at the border of the territory, much to Cameron's protests and now carried nothing but his elegantly crafted cane—practical for the sake of his slight limp and a last line of defense due to the sword concealed in its haft—and the letter granting him safe passage through the territory and into the house itself.  He knocked on the front door which was opened a moment later by a thin brunet who looked over the letter before handing it back and silently leading Arthur to the door to the room where Ivan currently was.

Steeling himself before knocking, Arthur reminded himself that he was there on a mission of neutrality.  There were rumors going around for anyone who would listen about the Russians' plans of encroachment into other territories that could off-balance the tentative truce that the entire city lived in.  He just hoped this went smoothly so that the letter of passage got him out as safely as it got him in.

Ivan turned when the door was pushed open, grey light coming in from three evenly spaced floor-to-ceiling windows. The room had been one of his mother's sitting rooms, and now where he often did business. The table he was standing behind had an array of guns he'd been cleaning to pass the time, as well as a slightly wilted vase of sunflowers. "Arthur," he greeted, skipping any honorifics.

Arthur stepped inside and closed the door behind him, feeling like he was caging himself in with a recently fed tiger—sated and apparently peaceful but still more than capable of ripping off a couple of limbs and devouring him whole, "Ivan.  How does this day find you?"

For a moment Ivan frowned, as if he couldn't figure out why such a question was being asked. "The day is well," he managed after a moment before smiling. "What brings you here?"

Social pleasantries were something Arthur usually forgot were not a staple in Ivan's conversation.  His hand rested lightly on the handle of his cane, "I came to ask how you're doing with the other houses."

"That's a lot of concern," Ivan said in some surprise. "You're snooping, aren't you?"

"I live my life in a city of thieves and murderers; snooping is one way to survive, but no.  My concern stems from a curiosity of how well we're all getting along with our neighbors," Arthur replied.  "I ask the same of any other Head I come in contact with."

"And have you? Come into contact with any others recently?" Ivan asked.

"One or two, yes."

"But you came into my house," Ivan said, tone bright though he took a step forward. "Why seek me out? Have you been paying house calls to everyone?"

"I've been intending to," Arthur replied, tone light as he reminded himself not to back up.  He only had the space of two or three steps between him and the door and if he backed up into it he would end up trapped.  "I thought we could talk first is all."

Ivan's smile didn't change. "So is that because you respect me or because you trust me the least?"

"It's because I'm not sure what to think of you.  I don't trust any of the heads, and there are some I trust far less than you.  But you've a healthy dose of my respect."  Anyone who didn't respect what Ivan and his house were capable of was a fool and deserved whatever they got.

"That's an honest answer," Ivan said, surprise coloring his voice. "I'm not sure I like it though."

"I prefer honesty in my business dealings," Arthur responded.  "What sort of answer would you have liked?"

Ivan shrugged, not admitting he liked being the most of something, even if it was only the most untrusted. "What business would you like to discuss today then?" he asked instead.

"The question of neutrality agreements and where you and yours stand in alliances," Arthur replied, coming to the point directly.

The statement shocked Ivan out of his smile and his expression turned to ice for a moment before a smile slowly spread across his face again. "I have no neutrality agreements," he said, voice pitching up into a sing-song tone. "The Germans broke the only one I had long ago. As for allies...those are simply the people I attack less frequently."

The Englishman inclined his head, never taking his eyes off of Ivan much like one would a crouching predator, "Beg pardon.  I believe my questions have been answered then.  Have you any concerns?"

"Concerns?" Ivan asked. "Are you compiling a poll?"

"I'm trying to keep the city balanced because we're a lot of thieves, liars, and killers," Arthur answered, considering that he probably ought to have said yes and then taken his leave.

"Then your job might just be impossible," Ivan said with a laugh, shaking his head before he reached one hand up to adjust the white scarf he wore. "Because thieves, liars and killers tend to want more than they have."

That garnered the faintest of smiles from Arthur, "You're probably right on that count." His phone chimed—a reminder that if he didn't leave in the next three minutes he would be late meeting Cameron which meant the idiot would venture into the territory after him, "It's been good to see you, Ivan.  I'm afraid I must be going, though."

"You haven't stayed long," Ivan said, eyes shadowing before he spread his arms out and grinned. "Feel free to come by any time."

Arthur offered an apologetic smile, "My guards get antsy if I'm out of their sight too long.  Thank you for the invitation, perhaps I shall."  He offered Ivan an actual bow as he retreated.

Ivan watched him go, darkness in his eyes. Once the door shut, he glanced over at the sunflowers, cringing at their wilting state and wishing he could make the time to tend to his flowers.

Arthur reached the meeting place and accepted his gun and knife back from his red-haired guard, "Not a single word, I am fifteen seconds late which is not cause for a single word.  Just get me back to the fucking house so I can attempt to salvage this rapidly deteriorating disaster."  He slammed his way into the car as Cameron got in behind the wheel and pulled away.

By the time they reached the English house Arthur had been stewing in silence for a good long while and slammed his way into the building and up to his study, shouting something almost unintelligible about "Should have dealt with this fourteen fucking years ago." 

Cameron trailed behind him, shaking his head and waving down his son, Liam, as he headed up the stairs after the head of the house, "Come on, laddie, we're goin' to want to be keepin' everyone else at minimum safe distance."

"Of course we are, mate," Liam said brightly, trying out an Australian accent that week to see if he could pull it off. "What should we have dealt with fourteen years ago?"

"He met with Braginski," Cameron replied, his Scottish brogue thick.  "Whatever was said has got him in a right state."

"Oh that one's just a lovely one, isn't he?" Liam muttered, watching Arthur. "What'd he do?"

"No idea," Cameron pushed the door to the study open further only to have a pen holder hurled at his head.  He ducked through long practice and stepped inside, dragging Liam with him and closing the door, "Arthur James Kirkland take a breath, take a smoke, take a drink take whatever the fuck ye want but quit acting like ye did at fifteen."

Arthur tossed the other pen stand from the desk at him and Cameron caught that one, "Sod off, Cam.  I've got work to do.  You weren't even around when I was fifteen."

"Really?  From the looks of it ye're only tearin’ up your office rather than usin' it," the redhead replied, leaning casually against the door.  "What did Braginski say?"

"He has no neutrality pacts and the closest thing he has to allies are the people he attacks less," Arthur muttered, pouring himself a finger of scotch and taking a deep breath.  "It's all going to come to pieces because that sodding _child_ has no neutrality pacts and the goddamned _German_ broke the only one he'd made in the past."

Liam blinked once. "I know you have this unhealthy obsession with keeping the balance, mate, but aren't you overreacting a shade here?"

Arthur looked Liam in the eye, "You weren't around before this tentative truce, Liam, so I'll excuse that.  The balance is something that we were able to establish and that has been tested repeatedly.  Of course there are small skirmishes here and there and there are houses that don't get along and never will, but the Russians are an outlier.  If what we've been hearing is true and Ivan is acting to take over Otho's territory, which I believe more and more that it is, this could devolve quickly into all out warfare.  There was a time, back when Ivan first came to power, that there was talk of taking him out.  Not among the heads, mind you, not officially, but among those of us who were trusted to do things like that.  We should have done it then."

"He's had power without taking everyone out for quite a while," Liam offered weakly.

"He's young, he doesn't trust anyone, and the amount of time he's had power means nothing beyond the fact that he's entrenched himself," Arthur sighed, sinking down into his chair.  "I hope you're right, Liam, but at this point?  It's best to assume the worse."

"You'll give yourself a heart attack always assuming the worse," Liam told him brightly, almost slipping back into his natural Scottish accent for a minute. "So if the worst does happen, then what?"

"Then we can expect a lot of bloodshed and changes in the territory lines.  Houses will change hands.  Those of us who have been avoiding the thought of heirs will have to be much more specific about it to keep the families together if the family even makes it through.  Neutrality pacts won't mean much at all, alliances will but we're all too fucking distrustful of one another to ever have official alliances," Arthur took another drink of his scotch.

Cameron spoke quietly, "Who's likely to come out of it?"

"Whoever's the hardest to kill."

"That's an oddly specific image you're painting there," Liam managed after another moment, wondering if Arthur would be willing to share his drink.

Arthur motioned to the two empty tumblers next to his decanter, allowing them access to the drink if they wanted it, "The truce was only reached a couple of years before Ivan came to power.  I was still learning poisons at that point, but I entered this all during the last city-wide war.  You learn quick that the only way to stay alive is to get them first."

Liam glanced over at Cameron, before shrugging and moving over to the decanter. "And you think he doesn't hold the same values? Even though it was the Germans who broke their pact first?"

"I think the man I faced today has seen his share of horrors.  He was the heir for the house at that time.  He grew up during the last war and he's not the sort to forgive.  Otho made a serious mistake in breaking that pact," Arthur admitted, "but the fact of the matter is that if it had been against another house there would have been some small skirmishes and the lines might have been drawn back the way they were by the end of it.  Looking at Ivan today?  If he decides he wants a sector, or fuck if he wants the city, I don't doubt his ability to take every square inch of it. He grew up in the war—he was born into it.  And there's something terrifying about that thought."

"He's just one man," Liam protested. "He's not even thirty!"

Cameron spoke this time, "Have ye seen his guard?  Or his sister—the younger one I mean."

Arthur shook his head, "Liam, you're missing my point.  He was born into that war.  He knows what it could cost and he hasn't got anything to lose, or not enough."

"He's got his sisters," Cameron offered which earned him a long look from under Arthur's eyebrows.

"Because family is never something one wants to lose," the Head of the house murmured.

Liam jerked his neck back and he blinked. "I'd be insulted if I didn't remember who your siblings were."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, speaking to his nephew, "You also know you're exempt because you're part of the _Family_ , too.  As to Ivan, I don't know that his sisters aren't something he can or can't lose.  I do believe we're on the brink of another city war either way. Sadiq's talking about possibly new agreements regarding our pact."

"That's because ye were a prat and decided that—"

"Shut up, Cameron," Arthur snapped.

"I'm just sayin’, ye don't go around winnin’ friends and influencin’ people outside of the family very well, Arthur dear."

"Weren't you sleeping with him?" Liam asked, sipping at the scotch.

"That ended a couple of months ago," came the icy reply.

"Probably because ye said somethin' stupid about business and pleasure and used some tidbit ye'd gotten between the sheets against him," Cameron shook his head, "Ye always were too mercenary for your own good."

"Because you know, I could see that really pissing him off," Liam said. "And also that you walked yourself right into that problem."

"Yes, thank you for that input, Liam. I had in fact figured that much out.  It does mean, that with the change in power in the Roman house as well that we may be looking at a war with no guaranteed allies."

Liam paused, eyes flickering over to Cameron. "You really shouldn't have pissed off Adnan then."

Arthur growled something before looking between them, "Do either of you have anything useful to contribute?  Or would you just leave?"

"I don't know, Dad, you thinking you might be useful?" Liam asked, looking over at him with a grin.

Cameron grinned, "Never been much use, so I guess we should leave."

"We really should work on being more useful," Liam grinned, already heading for the door. "I mean, I wouldn't even know where to start but I've heard it's considered nice."

Cameron laughed at that as he opened the door, tossing over his shoulder, "I could send Francis to act as a target for your pens if you like."

"Send that bastard in and I'll skewer him with my letter opener," Arthur replied harshly, but there was the faintest note of amusement underlying his words.

Liam gave Cameron a half alarmed look before shrugging it off and retreating. Cameron laughed, closing the door as he followed Liam out of the office.  Arthur poured himself another glass of scotch and opened the window slightly before lighting a cigarette and turning to a map of the city.

o-o-o

Roderich strolled through the park, finally locating a mostly hidden bench and sinking down on it as he cradled his cell phone against his ear and scribbled in the small notepad he held, “Ja, that is what I said. No, the transaction went over just as I told you it would. If you doubt me, check the records.” He paused, rolling his eyes and watching a couple of joggers go past. Once they'd disappeared around the bend he turned his attention back to the shorthand he used. It was a code he’d devised himself, and written in the cramped handwriting he used when taking notes it would have been nearly unintelligible even if he had been writing in a known language. The notes were a mixture of several of the languages he knew and within each of those languages letters were dropped and symbols used instead of certain letter combinations.

The German house's intelligence agent continued murmuring yeses and nos for a good fifteen minutes, long enough for another three people to pass the bench which was apparently less out of the way than he had thought. He finally hung up, breathing a sigh of relief. Flipping the notebook back to the first page, Roderich began mentally deciphering what he’d written and what of it was actually important. His mind began wandering after a moment, finding a certain musicality to the words—as rough as they might be. Shaking his head, the translator closed the notepad and slid it into an inner pocket. He would deal with deciphering his code in a more private location later.

Hands shoved deep into his pockets, Sadiq scanned the park as he walked, enjoying the overcast skies as much as the sun. He almost hesitated when he saw the man on the bench but didn't stop entirely.

Deciding that he should probably get back and deal with the information he had and see if there was anything in from other channels, Roderich got to his feet and turned to head down the path, nearly colliding with someone.  He startled back, already stammering out an apology before he got a good look at the other man and realized he was face to face with the head of the Mediterranean house.

"You'd hope someone so pretty would be more graceful," Sadiq commented, taking half a step back to give the other room.

Roderich took a step back as well as he caught his bearings, "Terribly sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Clearly," Sadiq drawled. He tilted his head at the other, frowning behind the smooth white lines of his mask.

The brunet paused, feeling that he should be going but at the same time it all seemed far too inadequate, "Thank you for the compliment."

Sadiq blinked before he remembered what he said and he laughed. "What, calling you pretty?"

Roderich's lips curled upward very slightly, "Yes, that."

"It's not much of a compliment when it's true," Sadiq shrugged, a roll of his broad shoulders.

"That, sir, is a matter of opinion.  Whether something is true or not, I mean."

"There are usually aesthetic principles," Sadiq said. "That mostly go beyond truth, haven't you heard about the golden rule or whatever nonsense there is about why we find what we find beautiful."

Roderich's eyebrow arched sharply at that, "Are you saying that I fall along that rule?"

Sadiq laughed again. "You're quite symmetrical. Perhaps the color of your hair is more personal opinion."

"It's rather a plain sort of brown," came the unimpressed response.

Sadiq looked down at him. "Right," he said and paused. "Are you disagreeing with my opinion then?"

"I'm saying you have a very different opinion," Roderich replied, reaching up to adjust his wire-rimmed glasses.

"From who?" Sadiq asked, crossing his arms over his chest and arching his brow, even though the later motion couldn't be seen.

"Most people I've encountered," Roderich responded easily.  "Plain brown hair isn't often remarked upon," though his hair wasn't quite pure brown, there were parts of it that when the light caught it seemed more dark red than brown.

"They haven't been looking that close then," Sadiq huffed.

"You're quite the flatterer," Roderich said before finally offering his hand, "Roderich."

Sadiq blinked once, solidifying who the other man was in his head easily enough. "Flattery? Is that what you call it. I would say flirting but to each their own."

Roderich's lips curled upward, "I would say that flattery and flirting often go hand in hand."

"Semantics," Sadiq agreed breezily.

"What brings you out here on such a day as this, sir?"

"I like the air," Sadiq said, spreading his arms out. "What about you then? It's a bit isolated for an intelligence agent, isn't it?"

So he had been placed by the other, "Actually, it's just about perfect.  I'm not always working after all, and this is as good a place to get away as any."

"Out in the open," he continued. "By yourself. Sure."

"Not everyone recognizes me on sight.  It's one of the benefits of being rather nondescript," Roderich replied.

"You're not nondescript," Sadiq said, shaking his head slightly. "But it's only a manner of elimination, considering it's fairly obvious which house you come from. And you're not the damn albino."

"Oh thank God for that at least," Roderich muttered.  "Not being Gilbert is some small mercy."

"Really? I thought everyone was supposed to get along with the others of their house," Sadiq drawled.

"That doesn't preclude being irritated by them."

Sadiq laughed again, as he and Heracles had had another yelling match on the way to Heracles' school that morning. "Alright, if you say so. The albino you have drives the entire town crazy, you know that right?"

"He wouldn't feel he was behaving properly if he didn't," Roderich replied with a wry smile.

"That must be quite the experience then," Sadiq said. "How is he not shot yet?"

The German rolled a shoulder, "He claims it's the charm of his personality.  Though no one actually believes that.  We assume it's dumb luck."

A smile tugged at the corner of Sadiq's mouth. "If you say so. But I don't know much about you. You aren't terribly known for getting outside of the house."

"I happen to take great pride in that fact," Roderich returned, not offering any information if he could help it.

Sadiq took another step forward. "Well, now you've made yourself out to be curious."

Roderich held his ground, tilting his head to one side and offering an enigmatic smile, "Have I indeed?  And why would I consider changing that?"

"Because enigmas are bad for business," Sadiq said, wanting to circle the other but staying in front of him. "Do you like coffee?"

"Are you offering coffee or trying to find something out about me?" Roderich asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Both," Sadiq said. "It's early in the day for other drinks."

Roderich considered that and then nodded, "Then, yes, I do like coffee.  Do you have a place you would suggest?"

"Several, some even within a short distance of here," Sadiq said.

"Well, lead on then, Mr. Adnan," Roderich said with a bit of a smile.

Sadiq didn't bother batting an eye at the other using his name, he simply turned and did exactly what was asked, which was lead the way to the coffee shop.

Roderich let his eyes skim around the shop as he calculated the number of people and the entrances and exits before locating a table that allowed them equal views of the place.

"You're quite good at this," Sadiq murmured, sitting across from him with a smirk.

The German's lips curled upward at that, "At what specifically, sir?"

Sadiq rolled his shoulders, already ordering coffee.

Roderich ordered a basic cup of coffee and turned his attention back to the masked man, "So, you've discovered I like coffee."

"It's not much," Sadiq agreed. "But one has to start somewhere."

"Well it's more than most," came the simple reply.

"You shouldn't be so mysterious," Sadiq said, cupping his chin in one hand. "It makes people want to figure you out. It's like challenge, you know?"

"And yet, strangely, you're the only person who's bothered trying to sort it out," Roderich said easily, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm a very dangerous person to give a challenge to," Sadiq said with a lazy smile.

"So I've heard."

"Then it's certainly not good for you," Sadiq said, watching him closely.

Roderich steepled his fingers, looking at Sadiq over them, "I like to see how long it takes until a person is satisfied that they've reached the end of their 'challenge'."

"Are you really sure you want to make the challenge more explicit?" Sadiq asked.

Roderich shrugged slightly, "It could be interesting."

Sadiq laughed, shaking his head slightly. "If you're sure you want to go there."

Glancing at his watch, the other tilted his head to one side briefly—a shrug with no motion of his shoulders, "I've got thirty minutes that you can have right now.  We'll see after that."

He paused for a moment, before inclining his head. "You seem to have a lot of faith that I'd let it go after that if you asked."

"Actually I have rather a lot of faith in my ability to avoid people," Roderich corrected.

"You realize that we have the two most intense and thorough intelligence networks between the pair of us right?" Sadiq said. "It would be yours versus mine."

"And yours has done such a lovely job finding information on me thus far it would seem," the reply was accompanied by a smile that bordered on a smirk.

Sadiq laughed again, the sound warm. "Certainly not. You know, I'd like to hear you play the violin sometime. I've always thought it such a lovely instrument." He glanced up when the coffee was put in front of him, thanking the waitress warmly.

Roderich didn't bat an eyelid at that, thanking the waitress and sipping at his coffee, "It can be when played right, but I fear I'm out of practice so it would be less than pleasurable."  That was an outright lie, he'd played it less than a week before, working his way through Gluck's "Dance of the Blessed Spirits" until his fingers ached.

Not quite rolling his eyes, Sadiq laughed again. "Yes, of course. I'm sure that's entirely the truth."

"The violin never leaves the house, so I can't see it being a possibility whether that was the truth or not," Roderich rolled a shoulder, his lips curling upward again.

"I'm sure you could find a way to sneak it out if you felt like it," Sadiq grinned.

One of his eyebrows rose sharply at that, "I have no intention of exposing my violin to the chance of accidents that increase if I take it out."

"That protective huh? Funny, you'd care that much about an instrument you don't play often," Sadiq mused.

"Just because one doesn't use something doesn't mean it isn't of import," Roderich returned.  "How are you doing with the sixth cat?"

That got another laugh out of Sadiq. "The cats are doing just fine, all seven or so of them. I think we lost one and got another two somewhere."

That finally earned a chuckle from Roderich, "It must be a delight to be constantly surrounded by that many allergens."

"That's what medication is for," Sadiq returned. "Their purrs are quite soothing," he added dryly, except none of the cats had ever actually had a soothing quality on him, getting into his office and bedroom and sticking their paws into his lukewarm coffee when he wasn't looking.

"I've heard that cats' purrs are borderline medicinal for some things," Roderich rejoined with a faint smile.

"Exactly," Sadiq said, taking a sip of his coffee with an incline of his head, but his voice was still drier than dust.

"I suppose you heard Kirkland went to speak with Ivan a couple of days ago and looked ready to light something on fire when he came out of that meeting?"  Roderich spoke, offering business that didn't directly concern either of them—beyond name-dropping Arthur to see if there was any reaction.

Sadiq blinked once. "Arthur always wants to set things on fire. He likes to think it's his charm, but I don't think he could handle Ivan all that effectively. He shouldn't try."

"Well, someone forgot to mention that to him, apparently."

"Who would?" Sadiq huffed.

Roderich shrugged, "Can't think of a single person, actually."

"To listen to them he'd have to trust their opinion, and as he trusts no one that would be difficult," Sadiq shrugged. "Besides, half the city wouldn't mind seeing him fall. Though, I'm not sure anyone wants Ivan taking his place so he should probably be told off that."

"Territorially and strategically speaking it's best that Arthur remain where he is, frankly.  Currently at least. Besides, to get to his territory Ivan has to cross through ours and I don't relish that thought," Roderich's tone was frank as he looked out the window.

"Hear you guys really pissed him right the fuck off though," Sadiq smirked. "That was smart."

Roderich offered him a thin smile, "Yes, it showed the exact level of intelligence to be found among the German house I'm sure."

"Which seems to be pretty damn stupid," Sadiq shook his head.

He finished his coffee, setting the cup aside and cleared his throat, "Yes, well, it was a decision made to our detriment."

"Did you know his preferred weapon is a pipe?" Sadiq asked, tone mild. "A _pipe_."

Something like fear flickered over Roderich's expression, it was the closest he'd come to a crack in any sort of facade he was wearing, as he nodded, "I'd heard that.  A pipe with a faucet still attached.  In a world of guns, and he still comes out on top in a fight."

Sadiq noticed the crack and decided not to push what a stupid move that had been on their parts. "Because he's insane. He also wears a scarf, which you think it would be really easy to like, throttle him with. But I don't think anyone's been brave enough to try that move yet."

"That's because if Ivan doesn't kill you before you get that close Winter will," Roderich looked around, considering whether he should order another cup of coffee or excuse himself.  His fingers tapped out the rhythm of one of the latest songs he'd been practicing.

Watching the motion, Sadiq laughed. "Right. The only fucker in town nearly as scary as Ivan or his sisters."

That earned a single, distracted nod, "Something like that."

Reaching out, Sadiq snapped his fingers under Roderich's nose. "You're not the type to panic are you?"

Roderich startled back at that, looking at Sadiq's fingers as though they were something distasteful, "No.  I'm not the type to panic, but talking about the neighboring head who my boss screwed over is not exactly a conversation I wish to have."

"Which conversation would you rather have?" Sadiq asked, drawing his hand back slowly before folding it around the coffee cup.

"I, honestly I've no idea.  I just would rather not talk about the Russians at this time."

"I hear your head and heir get along pretty well," Sadiq said, tone mild but teh subject shift was not even attempting to be subtle.

Roderich's eyebrow arched sharply at that, "You've heard correctly."

"It must be nice to have a secure line of succession," he said. "Though I always wondered why it was the younger brother."

That earned a long blink, "Have you _met_ Gilbert?"

"I'm not saying it would have been a _good_ idea," Sadiq said. "But it's not conventional now is it? Besides, I was just wondering if it ever ticked him off, being passed off for the younger." From all accounts, that was one of the biggest issues the Roman house faced.

"It's not conventional, no.  As far as I know, Gilbert's content with his lot.  There's an entirely different dynamic between our pair and the Vargas brothers, for instance."

Sadiq thought about Heracles dropping one of his cats on his head that morning and suppressed a sigh. "Still, good head and heir relationships are important. It must be nice is all."

"It's one less thing we all have to worry about, certainly."

Sadiq chuckled again, carefully not saying anything else about the Russian house and the problems they were about to pose to the Germans. "Yeah, sounds like."

Roderich smiled again finally, "You know, in all my searching I haven't found out much about you unrelated to the house, or at least not as much as I would like."

"Really?" Sadiq blinked, actually surprised by that. "What do you mean though? As the head, isn't my life supposed to be my house?"

"I mean things like what you like to eat, your preferred drinks, restaurants you like," he rolled a shoulder.

"I drink coffee," he said, raising his cup in a mock salute. "I like desserts."

"What sort of desserts?"

"Usually things with honey," he replied. "What about you? Chocolate, I'd presume."

"Good guess," Roderich inclined his head.

"Cakes probably," Sadiq continued. "Say, do you like hot chocolate?"

"Tortes specifically," Roderich replied.  He paused for a moment before nodding, "Occasionally."

"Ever try it with honey?" Sadiq asked, curious. He'd poured some in one night, when he'd been desperate to put Heracles to sleep and warm milk and honey weren't doing it. Coffee was a minefield between them, but rich chocolate with honey was something they could agree on.

Roderich considered that and shook his head, "No, I can't say I have.  I may have to try it."

"It's chocolate and honey," Sadiq said, like that meant everything in the world.

"The best of both worlds, then?"

Sadiq nodded. "Does that answer more about my personal tastes?"

"Somewhat, yes," Roderich agreed. "It's been rather nice to talk with you today."

"I'd only tell you my favorite restaurants if you agreed to go there," Sadiq added, rising. "Otherwise I think you'd just use it as a reason to stalk my movements."

"We could meet at one on Saturday," Roderich offered, watching the other man.

Sadiq considered him before pulling a napkin toward him, a pen from inside his suit coat. Scribbling down the address and time he held it out. "Alright then."

Roderich accepted the napkin with a slight smile, "I'll see you there, then."

Sadiq gave him another mock salute with his mug. "There," he agreed.

Roderich rose, paying for his coffee and bidding Sadiq a good day before leaving. Watching him go, Sadiq cupped his chin in one hand, tapping the fingers of his other hand against the table in the same rhythm Roderich had been using earlier. He carefully tried not to think about poetry.

o-o-o

Spread out over a couch, Antonio shut his eyes, concentrating on the beat of the samba music playing, and trying not to physically move as he listened.

Lovino opened the door and made it a step into the room before he saw Antonio and immediately started backing out again.

Head snapping up from the sprawl he was in, Antonio blinked. "Lovi?"

"Yes, it's me," he responded, cursing his luck and wishing he'd moved just a hair faster.

"Whatever are you doing?" Antonio asked, blinking the doze out of his eyes.

"Just wandering," Lovino responded, feeling his cheeks color at the sight of Antonio looking so rumpled.

Suddenly the beat of the music was too much and Antonio sprung to his feet. "Lovi! We're going out!"

He startled back half step, "We're...What?  No!  Why?"

"Because I want to," Antonio replied. "And you're my bodyguard, aren't you? Who else would I trust to go out with me?"

Lovino huffed in irritation, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there," Antonio chirped, grinning, his wavy hair more of a mess than usual.

"You going to clean up before we go?" Lovino's tone was harsh and he was trying not to look at the other man.

"Huh?" Antonio blinked at him again. "How do you mean?"

"Your hair's a disaster and your clothes are rumpled," he answered, still looking just about anywhere but at his boss.

Antonio blinked again, smile slipping for a moment. "I don't think that'll much matter."

Lovino paused at that and finally nodded, and avoided sighing, "Alright then.  Am I driving?"

"If you could," he managed, not wanting to make it an order, considering the fit Lovino was going to pitch.

"You'll be giving directions or an address?"  Lovino asked as he headed toward the cars.

"Maybe I'll drive," Antonio said after a moment's pause.

Lovino eyed him warily at that before grabbing a set of keys and handing it to Antonio, "Fine."

Antonio decided against complaining about not getting to choose his own car. "You ready then?" he asked. "Or do you have to get anything?"

"I don't know where we're going and I've got a gun and knife on me already and another set in the car.  So I'm as ready as I'm going to be," he muttered.

"Great," Antonio chirped, wondering if he called Francis the other would be willing to show up instead. Except that wouldn't end in what he wanted, and probably more drinks than he should have so he just twirled the keys around his finger and headed for the car.

Lovino sighed, decided that Antonio was right and he couldn't in good conscience let the other leave without a guard, and followed him to the car to settle into the passenger's seat.

Antonio paused, hands on the steering wheel. "Were you really looking forward to staying in or something?"

That earned him a glance, "I never have plans.  Wasn't looking forward to anything."

Antonio decided not to ask him why he looked so angry, simply putting the car into drive and heading into the night.

Lovino relaxed the further they got from the house, telling himself that it was surely not going to be as bad as he was thinking.  He was only out with Antonio.  Alone.  Which was something he had done his best to avoid for the last six years.

Finally parking, Antonio jumped from the car, leading the way inside a club, the same sort of music coming from inside as he'd been listening to before. Waving to the doorman, he and Lovino entered without a problem, implying he was known there.

They got a handful of paces inside before the music and the club processed fully through Lovino's automatic examination for threats and exits and he froze.  "Wh-what are we doing?"

"Well," Antonio said, glancing back at him. "I can't really go out alone anymore huh? And I really want to go dancing."

Lovino paled very slightly, "Dancing?"  That meant contact, potentially a lot of contact based on the music and the way the couples on the floor were moving.  He was in hell.  He had died and gone to hell.  That wasn't a surprise, that this was his eternal torment kind of was.

"I'm dancing," Antonio said faintly, turning to look at him. "You don't... you don't have to. But is there anyone here you would vet enough not to kill me?" He added a dopey grin in the hope his hands wouldn't shake.

His guard hesitated before scowling and holding out a hand after a long moment, "There's too much motion on the floor for me to see if something was to happen."

"That's true," Antonio said, twining their hands together and breathing for a moment before taking a step back to the dance floor and pulling Lovino with him and closer.

Lovino swallowed hard before moving with Antonio's guidance.  He was still far too tense to dance adequately. Moving through the first few steps to remind himself what they were, Antonio paused. There was still space between him and Lovino and the other was stiffer than a board. "Lovi," he said, leaning forward to murmur into his ear, the beat pulsing through his blood. "You have to relax."

"I haven't danced in a very long time," Lovino murmured, trying to relax but having a hard time of it with Antonio as close as he was.  The music was helping a bit, but he couldn't seem to focus on it.

"It's the beat, Lovi," Antonio tried, realizing what a bad idea this was.

He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, listening to the music for a moment and letting it seep into his bones before he nodded, "The beat.  Right."  He felt some of the tension creep out of his body.

"You've danced before, right?" Antonio murmured, leaning closer to be heard over the music.

Lovino forced himself to relax more rather than tense at that and he nodded, "It's been a while, though."

"How long?" Antonio asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"A few years," he did not want to admit that the last time he had danced was the last time Antonio had agreed to teach him and Feliciano, or at least help them practice what he'd already taught.

"Years?" Antonio asked, trying not to sound as aghast as he felt and then he paused, tugging Lovino closer under the guise of the music. "But Lovi, it's only been a few years since I even taught you."

"That's right.  Feliciano never really liked it much so I haven't had much chance," he tried to sound dismissive but felt he failed at that rather thoroughly.

"I would always have danced with you if you asked," Antonio said softly.

"I didn't know that," Lovino responded.  Not that he would have asked even if he had—he preferred to keep space between himself and Antonio as much as possible.

"You could always ask me to dance," Antonio said, too close and suddenly he pushed Lovino out into a spin, wanting to break the moment before it got too far.

Lovino stumbled in the middle of the spin but he corrected and spun back into Antonio's arms, moving with the momentum and ending up as close as before, "You had other things to worry about than whether I was dancing."

"Dancing is very important," Antonio said, the brief break in contact enough for him to get his mind back under control. "It's about control," he said, reminding himself of that. "Of grace and movement and everything you should be."

"Are you saying I don't have control or grace?" Lovino challenged, though it lacked his normal ire and from anyone else it could have been classified as teasing.

Antonio's throat felt dry. "Oh Lovi, you're entirely graceful. But you need more passion in your life."

The smaller man looked up at him, his green hazel eyes locking on Antonio's features as he moved ever so slightly closer with the music before he thought about it, "I don't have enough passion?"

"If you do," he managed after a breath. "You've been doing a good job of hiding it lately."

"Feliciano's always been the one who has the easier time showing passion," came the response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Then where does your passion go?" Antonio asked, moving too close for a moment before shifting back.

"It's a different sort," Lovino responded, mentally cursing when his breath hitched.

"But where does it go?" Antonio said, as Lovino hadn't answered his question.

"Feli would say that it comes out in my snarling and shouting.  Grandfather always used to say that it helped keep my aim steady and my senses sharp," Lovino shook his head very slightly.  "I think they're both out of their fucking minds."

"Then where do you think it goes?" Antonio asked and realized he was trying to wrap himself around Lovino while still moving, nearly speaking directly into his ear.

Lovino's breath caught and it took him a moment to find of his thoughts again with Antonio as close as he was, "I don't think it goes anywhere.  I think it doesn't have an outlet."  He needed to get out of this dance, he was risking saying far too much the longer he and Antonio were twined about each other in the steps.

Antonio moved back, so that they were only connected by their hands still. "Then what do you do with it?"

"Suppress it.  It's not like it does anyone any favors," Lovino replied, breathing the faintest sigh of relief as they shifted position to offer more distance.

Except that line caused Antonio to yank him forward again, the movement actually working against the music. "You shouldn't suppress things like that," he said. "They find a way to come out whether you like it or not at some point."

Lovino stumbled, having not expected that step and he caught himself against Antonio's chest with one hand.  He pushed hard trying to get the distance back, "I'll suppress whatever the hell I want.  It's my emotions we're talking about here, isn't it?"

Antonio took a shaky breath. "It'll be dangerous though, in the end."

"Will it?" Lovino returned sharply, "How would it?"

"If it explodes," Antonio said. "Crimes of passion are always the worst you know." He moved his hands, leading Lovino around the dance floor, guiding him carefully. "Would you like to lead?"

"I'll probably make a mess of it," Lovino answered, though he wasn't sure he wanted to keep following.

"It's up to you," Antonio said faintly.

Lovino hesitated briefly before he nodded, "I would like to lead."

Antonio nodded, dropping his hands as the music changed and holding them back up loosely in front of him, vaguely in the position of a follow but waiting for Lovino to put his hands out to settle them.

Lovino took Antonio's hands and led through a basic sequence a few times until he had a feel for it again, "So you think that because I bottle up my passion I'm going to, what, kill someone?"

Laugh a little strained, Antonio shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I'd rather hope not though."

Leading the other through a spin, Lovino watched Antonio, "What about you?  What becomes of your passion?"

"I dance," Antonio said, swiveling his hips and grinning. "Or I get very, very drunk with Francis and Gilbert. I'm not sure how smart the latter is now though."

Lovino consciously kept his attention on Antonio's face rather than his hips, "Considering your change in position, it probably isn't very."

"So, it'll have to come out in dancing then," he said, closing his eyes and grinning. "It'll be safer, I think."

"Do you get out dancing much?" He asked, focusing on the distance between them.

"Haven't in a while," Antonio said, trying not to slink closer. "Starting to think that was a bad idea."

"How so?"  Lovino sent the other into yet another spin to get a bit more distance between them for however brief a moment.  He refused to admit that there was something like satisfaction curling in his mind at having been Antonio's only dance partner in 'a while'.

"Because I have a lot of passion I need to burn off," Antonio said, chest twisting up in how much he wanted to press forward until Lovino couldn't draw back anymore, how much he wanted to pin him against a wall except that would stop the dance.

Lovino weighed the option of dropping Antonio's hands and retreating from the dance floor at that, but they were in the middle of a song and he could hardly do something like that.  Or rather, he could, but he had come out under the pretense of protecting the Head of the house and he couldn't do that from a distance, "Is this helping at all?"

"It," he started and tried not to laugh hysterically. "Yes and no."

Lovino looked like he didn't know what to do with that answer.  They continued through the dance until he led Antonio through yet another spin, pulling the taller man close as he came out of it.  Before he fully processed what he was doing, caught up in the music and the heat and the proximity of the other man, Lovino leaned up and pressed a harsh kiss to Antonio's lips.

One hand resting on Lovino's shoulder, Antonio curled it around and pulled him in tighter, other hand dropping from where it rested against Lovino's to grab his hip. Even in his surprise, he melted into the kiss. Lovino curled a hand around the back of Antonio's neck, pulling him down farther into the kiss before he processed what was going on.  His eyes snapped open wide and he stiffened, shoving the taller man away and stumbling back a couple of paces.

Antonio barely caught himself from falling over with the hand still on Lovino's waist, which had refused to let go. "Lov-Lovi?" he barely managed, tripping forward to try and keep pace with his retreat and drag him back in.

Cheeks bright red, Lovino put up his hands to push against Antonio's chest and keep space between them, "N-no.  Let go of me."

"You kissed me," Antonio said, voice wondering and wistful and hurting like a hand had torn his chest open all at once. "You _kissed me._ "

"I didn't mean to," Lovino protested, pushing away again, his voice holding a note of what could be panic.

"You didn't—" Antonio started but shook his head. "But you _did_."

"It was a mistake," Lovino snapped, finally twisting away from the other and retreating out of reach.

That more than anything made Antonio freeze up. "A mistake," he repeated, and had to follow Lovino across the dance floor to be heard.

Lovino turned his back on Antonio, hating the words coming out of his mouth but not able to stop them, "Yes.  A mistake."

Antonio caught up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him back around, a parody of the dance move. "Say it again."

The smaller man wrenched away from Antonio, anger in every tense line of his body as he met the other's eyes and ground out the words, "It. Was. A. Mistake."

"On whose part?" Antonio demanded.

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Who made the mistake?" he asked again. "Because I kissed you too." He actually didn't want to think about it, how much he'd melted into and dominated the kiss. His emotions toward Lovino were still tangled up in a mess, remembering him as a child and the shock of desire and fear when he hit puberty and Antonio _wanted him_ —still a child and Antonio had spent nights on his knees with his face smashed into the side of his bed praying that he wasn't a pedophile for desiring one boy. Or the fact that now he was supposed to be protecting Lovino and Feliciano, except protecting him was hard and dominating him on a dance floor was not protection enough from himself. There was guilt and fear as much as desire when he touched the cross he wore, trying to ground himself like he had in the past.

Lovino's jaw tensed at that and his eyes narrowed dangerously, a sign that usually was followed by a fight of some sort, "In that case we both did.  I never should have kissed you in the first place and you sure as hell shouldn't have kissed me back."  He'd been doing so well for the last several years avoiding the older man and suddenly Antonio was the head of the house and Lovino was his personal guard and it was impossible to avoid him.  Hadn't he agreed to dance with the other in the first place?  That was probably his second mistake of the night, the first being ever opening the door to the room Antonio was in.

"Why shouldn't I have?" Antonio snapped, feeling a pounding behind his head and tapping the cross again like that would help.

"Because you're in charge of the entire house and my entire life, you bastard!"  Lovino snarled, turning to stalk away again, wanting to get out of the crowded club where they were starting to get stares from the people around them.

He might as well have punched Antonio, who didn't move after him, hands shaking and he twisted them in front of him in an attempt to stop that. Lovino stopped several steps away, turning to see that Antonio hadn't followed.  He swore, knowing that moving any further would risk losing sight of the head in the crowd which he couldn't risk, but he also didn't want to be in contact with Antonio in the least.

For another long moment, Antonio didn't move before he turned on his heel and stupidly headed for the back door, wanting air—possibly wanting to be sick—and just not looking at Lovino anymore.

Watching him go, it took almost a full minute before Lovino processed what was going on and started to shove his way through the crowd to follow Antonio.  He got tangled up with a drunk mid-way across the club but extricated himself quickly only to find that he'd lost sight of the Spaniard.  He felt panic tighten around his throat, but continued on until he reached the backdoor and pushed it open.

Antonio had turned the corner from the backdoor and froze when he realized someone else was back there with a gun. He didn't get a good look at their face but he backpedaled quickly, trying to remember where his gun was and fumbling it out, hands still shaking.

Lovino looked around the darkened alley, cursing under his breath when he didn't see Antonio immediately.  He pulled out his gun, calling quietly and hoping that the other was still nearby and safe, "Antonio?"

Antonio didn't manage to yell anything back to Lovino, or even get his gun all the way out when a shot echoed down the alley. Since he was already moving, the shot missed his chest and caught him on the top of his leg instead, dropping him to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to feed your authors with love and words. We always deeply appreciate it.


	3. I'm Surprised and Unsure About It

"Antonio!"  Lovino bolted in that direction, rounding the corner and having to duck back as another shot was fired at him.  He had caught enough of a glance to register where the assailant was and he came around the corner quickly, firing as he did so, the bullet hitting the attacker in the shoulder and sending him back far enough for Lovino to reach Antonio's side.

Antonio was swearing, looking up at Lovino in some surprise as he stopped trying to get his gun out and focused on stopping the bleeding instead.

Lovino spared him a brief glance to confirm that he was alive before firing three more shots in quick succession, one in the leg to mirror Antonio's wound one in the other shoulder, and one in the stomach, though the other had managed to get off one last shot which narrowly missed the guard.  His expression was hard as he crossed the last distance, kicking the gun away from the man's limp hand and swearing creatively in Italian when he recognized the shooter as someone from their own House.  Keeping his gun out, he reached down and hauled the man up by his shirt front, "Who else?"

"No one."

He fired a shot into the man's knee, ignoring the splatter on his clothes—he was going to have to burn them regardless due to the bloodstains from the attacker’s wounds, "Who else?"

"No one, I swear!"

"You're not smart enough to pull this off on your own."  The gun barrel pressed against the man's other knee, "Try again."

Moving to try and sit up against the wall, Antonio watched the others down the alleyway. "Lovi, it's not—"

Lovino ignored him, his attention on the man he was holding onto as he finally got a name.  "Rodriguez."

The smile that graced Lovino's features at that was positively feral.  He holstered his gun and pulled out his knife, slitting the bastard's throat before dropping him and sheathing the blade—he'd clean it once they were away from there.  Clearing his expression and wiping his hands clean he returned to kneel at Antonio's side, "We need to get you home."

For a moment, Antonio just watched him before he nodded. He'd torn apart his shirt to tie up the gunshot wound to at least not bleed all over the car. "That would be good," he said after a beat.

Lovino considered how best to do it, they were parked across the street and there was no way in hell he was leaving Antonio alone.  He drew a deep breath and nodded once before carefully helping the other man to his feet and settling Antonio's arm around his shoulders, "Can you put any weight at all on that leg?"

"No," Antonio said with a laugh. "I'm going to have to use you the whole way I'm afraid."

"It's not far," Lovino assured, guiding him toward the car.  "We'll get you back to the House and patched up."  He paused, "What do you want done about Rodriguez?"

Antonio grunted. "I suppose now would be the time to off the Head of the House wouldn't it?" he said, still laughing, the edge of hysteria in the sound. "I don't know yet. Ask me again when I can think straight."

His guard nodded slightly, reining in the urge to deal with Rodriguez himself.  It was the Head's place to determine what was to be done, not his, "Do you want me to make sure he's locked up until you can decide?"

"Yes," Antonio sighed, the sound relieved. "Please tell me you still have cigarettes."

"I'll dig them out when we get to the car," Lovino promised, pausing to check the street before helping Antonio across it to where the car was parked.

"That would be nice," Antonio said, sagging further against him.

Lovino shifted slightly to better support Antonio at that, feeling a twinge of panic, "But you've got to stay conscious if you want one.  I don't want you lighting the car on fire."

"I'll stay awake," Antonio promised.

"You'd better," the smaller man responded as they finally reached the car.  He managed to get the passenger door open and helped Antonio into the seat, digging out his cigarettes as he circled to the driver's side and handing the other man one as soon as he was behind the wheel.

"Thank you, Lovi," Antonio managed, accepting it and shoving it in his mouth, trying to stay awake. "Please drive quickly."

Lovino nodded, "Just focus on staying awake."  He pulled away from the curb and raced back to the house coming to a stop by the front door in far less time than it had taken them to make the same trip in reverse.  He hit the horn thrice to notify those inside that they needed help as he got out and went to help Antonio from the car.

Antonio stubbed the cigarette on the inside of the car door, as he'd already gotten blood all over it, before stumbling back against Lovino, the inside of the house lighting up, yells coming from the people already on their way out.

"See?" Antonio offered. "Anything for you, Lovi. I stayed awake."

"Grazie, Antonio," Lovino grit out.  He supported Antonio to the house, snarling at anyone who tried to take the other from him, "I've got him, just get a room ready and get the goddamn medic."

Feliciano rounded the corner and paled, his eyes widening, "Lovino..."

"I'm fine. Antonio's been shot.  Make yourself useful, Feli," he snapped.

Feliciano nodded at one of the men Lovino had already snarled at as he crossed to them and moved to act as support for Antonio on the side opposite his brother.

Alfonso stopped, looking his brother over once before swearing. "What the fuck did you do to yourself?" he demanded as the twins maneuvered Antonio onto a bed so that he could start work on cleaning the gunshot wound.

Lovino stepped back, offering Alfonso a dark look, "It's not his fault."

"He got shot," Alfonso said, pulling on surgical gloves. "That means it’s his fault."

Feliciano saw his brother tense at that and caught him by the arm to pull him toward the door, "Come on, Lovi, you need to get cleaned up."

"I'm—"

"Covered in blood."

"I've got something I need to do first," Lovino replied, shaking his twin off.  He paused before pulling out his gun and pressing it into Feliciano's hands, "What have I taught you?"

"Fratello, we're in the House," Feliciano protested.

" _What_ have I taught you?"

"Aim for the torso.  If you hit it, fire three more times.  But—"

Lovino's eyes narrowed, "Don't argue with me right now, Feliciano.  If anyone comes near this room that isn't me or that you or Alfonso have not specifically sent for you shoot them."

There was a moment as the shock of what he said sunk in and Feliciano nodded, his hands shaking very slightly, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to get injured," Lovino said, not answering the question and disappearing down the hall before his brother could repeat it.

Alfonso shot Feliciano a look over his shoulder. "I'm assuming he's going to try and deal with whatever power struggle just happened. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"He only carries one gun when he's in the house and I'm currently holding it," Feliciano responded, gaze still on where his brother had gone.

"He just came back from outside," the medic shrugged, pushing Antonio back onto the bed forcefully. "Stay down."

The young Italian glanced toward the bed before taking up a position nearer the door, "Is Antonio going to be alright?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Alfonso said with a shrug. "You're lucky though, for a moron."

"I dodged," Antonio slurred, the medicine Alfonso had given him already at work.

"Good boy," his brother said, busying himself around the other.

"Not a dog," Antonio protested.

Feliciano's lips quirked upward very slightly at that exchange, but his attention returned to the door as he counted the minutes until Lovino returned.  It was almost half an hour later by the time Lovino entered the room again.  He still hadn't changed and he had a bruise forming on his left cheekbone but otherwise appeared unscathed.  He held out his hand for the gun and Feliciano handed it over quickly, glad to relinquish the weapon.

Alfonso looked up from where he'd taken off the surgical gloves and was sitting by his brother's bedside. "Take care of it?"

"As much as I'm allowed to.  He gets the final word on what's to be done," Lovino responded, leaning against the wall where he had a clear line of sight and a clear shot at the door.

"So it was an internal matter," Alfonso said and sighed. "Who am I kidding, of course it was."

"I think we've got the root agitator, but I won't know until I can do something more extensive," Lovino muttered, his face impassive.

"He's going to be out for a while," Alfonso said, tone mild.

Lovino's gaze darted to where Antonio lay and then toward the door again.  His lips quirked upward ever so slightly and he set the gun down next to Feliciano and left without another word.

"You could probably do with following him," Alfonso said after a beat. "Because someone needs some sense beat into them and you're not supposed to do that to already injured men."

"Because he always listens to me," Feliciano murmured.  "Shall I leave the gun for you?"

"I am perfectly capable of shooting one, no matter how distasteful I find it," he replied.

The artist nodded at that, leaving the gun as he went after his brother, "Lovino, wait!"

Pausing, the elder twin turned, "What are you doing?  I told you—"

"To stay, I know.  But Alfonso's better with a gun than I am, so they're not worse off without me there."

Lovino muttered something under his breath, "You don't want to follow me."

"You're right, but I need to talk to you."

"Then talk, I'm not stopping."

"What happened?"

That earned an arched eyebrow, "We were out and Acardi ambushed us and shot Antonio.  He said Rodriguez was in on it.  So, I'm going to go make sure there was no one else as well."

"Why were you out to begin with?"  Feliciano pressed.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Antonio's been shot, you don't have rights to that excuse at the moment."

Lovino pressed his lips into a thin line before answering, "He was bored, and I'm his bodyguard, so we went out."

"Out where?"

Jaw clenched he answered, "Dancing.  He wanted to go Samba dancing."

"And you let him out of your sight?"

Lovino's temper snapped at that and he whirled, pinning Feliciano against the wall, "Are you saying I'm responsible for this?"

Feliciano kept himself calm as he looked into his brother's eyes, though he wanted to rescind the conversation in its entirety, "No.  But from the looks of it you might be saying that.  I'm just trying to figure out how this all happened is all."

"We had a fight."

"Why?"

"Damn you, stop asking questions!"  He released his twin and continued on his way through the halls.

"Not until you answer them."

"Because I kissed him, that's why!"  Lovino froze as he realized he'd said that.

Feliciano sighed, "Oh, Lovi.  What did you say to him after that?"

"What makes you think I said anything?"

He leveled a long look at his twin, "Because kissing him wouldn't be enough to send him out of your sight."

"I told him he shouldn't have kissed me back because he controls my life already."

Feliciano's eyes widened and he stopped, "Are you stupid?  Never mind, I know that answer.  Go-go get whatever information you need out of Rodriguez.  I don't want to know how you do it."  He turned and retreated back the way they had come, leaving his brother standing in the middle of the hall staring after him before Lovino could extract a promise of silence.

o-o-o

A while later, Antonio woke up, blinking over to the bedside table. "Carnations," he deadpanned and Alfonso grinned at him.

"I thought you might like them. Now that you're awake, I'm going to sleep. Don't strain anything or bleed more, alright?"

The door to the room opened quietly, Feliciano poking his head in, "Oh, good, you're awake."  He looked at Alfonso, "I'll sit with him, if you need to get some sleep."

"I am entirely on my way out," Alfonso said, standing. "Thank you, Feliciano."

He nodded slightly, stepping fully into the room to take the chair Alfonso had been sitting in.  He balanced his sketchbook against his knee and started drawing as he looked at Antonio, "How are you feeling?"

Antonio just grunted. "You know, breathing."

"Breathing's good," the younger man responded.  "Lovino says that from what he can discover it was just Rodriguez and Acardi involved directly.  He's still trying to find out if there was anyone who gave them the impression that they'd have support in such an action."

"Well, there's always the chance they just wanted me to be gone," Antonio said, smiling serenely at the carnations beside his table.

Feliciano muttered something under his breath in Italian which sounded like he'd learned it from his brother, "Because that's a great reason to throw the House into chaos."

"Maybe they just wanted the old order back," Antonio said, finally looking over at Feliciano.

Feliciano's expression darkened very slightly at that and the next stroke of his pencil was heavier than he intended, "The old order's gone and if they thought for a minute that attempting to take you out would get them anything other than dead they're idiots who get what they deserve for trying to assassinate the Head of the Family."

For a moment Antonio just watched him. "That's good to hear," he managed finally.

He turned his attention mostly to his sketch, his tone lightening considerably, "Did you have a good evening before this all happened?"

"A good," Antonio started. "Was I supposed to be having a good evening?"

"Well, you went out and dragged Lovino with you so I kind of figured you were," Feliciano offered, not looking up.

"Are my good evenings predicated on Lovi?" Antonio asked, trying to sound entirely casual. He paused, realizing he'd used the nickname instead of the man's full name.

That earned a glance, "I didn't say that.  But you did go out, he's your bodyguard so it makes sense for him to go with you."

"But you... you said that you assumed I was having a good evening because Lovino was there," Antonio said, carefully using his full name.

"Oh, I did.  I didn't mean for it to sound that way."  He paused, "Did you have a bad evening before this all happened, then?"

Antonio paused, remembering the feel of the music and Lovino pressed against him, and the pressure of his mouth, but also the way Lovino had yelled at him, and the things he said. "Yes and no," he hedged.

"Was the dancing good at least?"  Feliciano asked, hoping to get a reaction of some sort.

Antonio twitched, and hissed in pain. "I mean, what?"

"Careful," the younger man said automatically.  His tone was light as he finished the basic shapes of his sketch, "I asked if the dancing was good at least."

"I never... I never said I went dancing with your brother," Antonio said, rolling his shoulders and trying to pull himself up into a sitting position without straining his leg.

"No.  He did though," Feliciano looked up.  "Alfonso will kill us both if you damage yourself more."

"Us both being me and you or you and him?" Antonio asked. "Besides, he blames me for this, not either of... well, you."

"You and me.  And that's all well and good, but Alfonso's got no say about how Lovino's responding to this all."

Antonio frowned. "He's fine, I'm sure."

Feliciano stared at him for a long moment, "Except that he's your guard and you got shot on his watch."

"He doesn't like me," Antonio protested. "And he didn't fail in his duty, I wandered off."

"He doesn't like you?"  Feliciano blinked at him like he couldn't believe that he'd actually heard those words.  "Antonio, my brother's been in love with you since we were sixteen."

Freezing again, Antonio didn't move for a long moment, just staring at Feliciano and repeating those words to himself over and over. "He... he tried to _kill_ me when he was sixteen," he protested weakly.

"That's how Lovino deals with having emotions about other people.  He was making sure you could take care of yourself," Feliciano explained.  "After all, he went after you with a knife not a gun."

"It was still a knife," Antonio said, voice even weaker. "He... there's no way he's in love with me. Even if he was it doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it matter?" Feliciano protested.

"Because," Antonio started and shook his head. "Because I can't. Not in my position."

Feliciano sighed, "Is this because of what he said?"

"What do you mean?" Antonio said, twitching again. "What... what did he say?"

"That you shouldn't have kissed him back because you control his life."

Eyes widening, Antonio considered him. "How did you get that many words out of him anyway? Besides, it's true."

"I ask questions and follow him when he's going somewhere he doesn't want me," Feliciano admitted.  He sighed, closing his sketchbook, "Maybe it is true.  Lovino fights with words when he doesn't want to use his fists.  He said it ‘cause it'd do the most damage."

"Because it's true," Antonio repeated again. "He thought I might kill you when you did that painting of your grandfather. That's how much he trusts me and that's how much power I have. Anything he does—how real can it be when I can't trust he isn't just doing it to stop me from—from whatever he thinks I might do?" Instead of looking at Feliciano he watched where his hands were twisting in his lap, around and around.

Feliciano paused for a long moment before answering, his expression serious, "Because he killed Acardi and has spent hours interrogating Rodriguez rather than let them kill you.  He kissed you first.  Lovino doesn't know how to lie about things like that—mostly because he refuses to admit they exist usually."

Ducking his chin down, Antonio shrugged his shoulders. "Still doesn't change that he doesn't trust me."

"He doesn't trust anyone.  He doesn't trust _me_ most of the time," Feliciano replied.

"But I need—" he started, hands twisting in the sheet. "But I want him to trust me."

"Give him time," the other responded.  "You'll get that long before you get any other confessions out of him."

"According to you I've already given him six years," Antonio said. "But it still doesn't matter."

Feliciano grimaced at that and finally rose, "You might consider the fact that he still kissed you first.  And see if _that_ matters."

"It's not even," he started, hand twisting in frustration again and he tried to smooth out the blanket. "It's not just that. But how much can God really forgive someone for?"

Feliciano paused at that, trying to sort out what brought that on before he remembered how devout Antonio tried to be.  The Vargas brothers had long since given up on any practiced religion—or he had.  He knew Lovino attended mass once in a blue moon.  He considered how to answer that without dismissing the other's beliefs, "How much can God punish you for making you how you are?"

"I already do so much wrong," Antonio said.

"Is loving my brother wrong, then?" Feliciano asked, knowing the answer according to the moral and religious code.

"It's supposed to be," Antonio said, voice fainter.

"God forgave David in the end for Bathsheba," he offered quietly.

"It's a sin to _look_ at him with desire in my heart," Antonio said, shaking his head. "Let alone how long—"

Feliciano shook his head after a moment, ignoring the fragmented sentence for once, "That is something you will have to sort out yourself, then.  I'm more inclined to say that if you love someone it can hardly be as sinful as all of that.  You don't choose who you fall in love with."

"Like you were staring at the German?" Antonio asked softly.

He felt his cheeks heat up at that, "Well, he-he's a very handsome man.  I don't think I can call that love though.  But something like that, yes."

"Be careful, Feli," Antonio said.

"I am, Antonio," he replied quietly.

"Good," he said with a tiny nod. "That...just keep being careful, alright? I'd really rather not—For Lovino's sake as much as yours."

The artist nodded very slightly, "I will.  I promise."

o-o-o

"Morning, Lili," Vash murmured sleepily into his coffee.  He didn't look up from the information Roderich had shoved at him before disappearing, probably into the room where the piano was kept.

"Good morning, brother," the young woman responded, grabbing a muffin and sitting down across the table from him.

The German guard finally glanced toward her and nearly choked on his coffee, "What happened?"

Reaching up, Lili fiddled with her blond hair that now came barely to her chin, "Do-do you like it?"

Vash's green eyes were wide, "You cut off your braids."

"I, yes," her voice got quieter, more uncertain.  It was a significant change from braids that came to the bottom of her shoulder blades to unevenly cropped hair.

"Why?"  He blinked at her over the edge of his coffee cup and felt like he was missing something.  He had not had enough caffeine to deal with any significant changes yet that morning.

"You don't like it."

"I'm surprised and unsure about it."

Lili nodded and looked down as she murmured, "I cut it like yours."

He stared at her, mouth agape as he tried to get his brain to start up, "You, it, I mean."  Vash cleared his throat and nodded once, "It looks good on you."  He carefully didn't say that with her clothes and shape she looked like a boy because he had enough presence of mind to remember that it was a sore spot.

Gilbert entered, heading for the coffee before he registered anything else was in the entire room. Once he had the warm drink in hand, he turned back around and blinked. "Oi, Vash, I thought you had a sister, not a brother."

Vash tensed at that, gritting his teeth and shooting Gilbert a glare as Lili sank a little lower in her chair.  "Gilbert, you want to try again? Or shall I shoot you now?"

Blinking once, Gilbert shrugged, glad that he suddenly hadn't gone insane in the last twenty-four hours, though he still needed more coffee. "I'll try again. Your new haircut looks adorable, but you should get like, a ribbon or something you know?"

Lili offered him an uncertain smile at that, "I, I could do that.  Maybe Elizaveta has something I can use."

"Or you could get one of your own," Vash suggested, frowning at his empty cup and weighing the pros and cons of getting up and pouring another cup when Gilbert was standing between him and the coffee maker.

Gilbert's eyebrow twitched. "You could ask her, but only if you're prepared for the consequences." Finishing his first cup, he poured another before moving away from the counter.

"Consequences?"  Lili asked, following the movement with her eyes as Vash rose and poured himself another cup of coffee and eyed the muffins.

"You're going to end up with a lot more than you bargained for most like," Gilbert shrugged. "I mean, you open the door to clothing and she's more like to take you all the way to the mall and break someone's budget."

Vash winced at that as Roderich appeared in the doorway, "Who is allowing Elizaveta near clothing?  Vash, that information I gave you—"

"I'm not done with it yet," came the growled response.

Roderich sighed, "Of course not."  He spotted Lili and blinked once before offering her a smile, "You've cut your hair."  She blushed and nodded, not sure what she expected as a response.  The brunet man considered it, "It looks very nice."

"She said she might ask her for a ribbon," Gilbert said, nursing his second cup of coffee.

"Expressing a need for a ribbon for your hair is as good as asking her to redesign your entire wardrobe," Roderich cautioned.  "But a ribbon or a flower, even a basic barrette, might not go amiss."

"Well, it, it wouldn't be that bad would it?"  Lili asked quietly, causing Vash to just about choke on his coffee again.

"If there was someone to attempt to rein in her more extravagant spending tendencies.  After all, a ribbon doesn't require an entire new trousseau," Roderich agreed, ignoring the look Vash was giving him.

"And you have the best taste out of all of us," Gilbert replied, grinning.

"Well, that's not ne—" Roderich blinked as he processed where that was going to lead, "No.  Absolutely not."

"And if Elizaveta will listen to anyone on this topic it's likely to be you," Vash supplied.

"What part of no do the two of you not understand?"

Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not saying Lili needs a total make-over here, but you know you're the only one with taste who won't be murdered for saying something. We thus leave the affair entirely in your hands."

"But I had things I was supposed to—"

"It, it won't take that long will it?"  Lili asked quietly.  "I don't want to be a bother."

Roderich caught the look Vash was giving him, daring him to say otherwise, and caved, "It's no bother at all.  I could do with a day off."

"Yeah, that stick up your ass needs a day off too," Gilbert said glibly.

Roderich tensed, looking like he had several choice things to say in response to that, but settled for, "I have the urge to kill you but I think I'll let Vash do it for me."

Vash's hand had tightened around the handle of his cup as he tried to decide if Gilbert's language in front of Lili constituted a shooting offense or if he could just hurl the mug across the kitchen.

Gilbert blinked once and then realized what he'd said in front of who where her brother could hear it. "Right. Well, nobody said I had to be intelligent," he scowled.

"Which is why nobody says so," Ludwig said, brushing past his older brother for the coffee.

Watching him, Gilbert shook his head. "I like you better when you're more awake and put together and less snarky."

Roderich chuckled, "We wouldn't want to strengthen his ego after all."  He looked toward Lili, "I'll got let Elizaveta know.  When shall we be leaving?"

"Half an hour?"  She offered.

He nodded slightly, "Half an hour then."

"Certainly not," Ludwig agreed, actually believing his brother to be smarter than he might truly be. He would just never say it aloud and neither would anyone else. The rest of their words caught up with him. "Wait, shopping?"

"Thank your lucky stars you're not invited," Gilbert said.

Roderich slipped out of the kitchen as Lili nodded, "I need a ribbon for my hair, and they said that Elizaveta might insist on a full shopping trip."

Ludwig blinked once before looking at his brother. "Never mind the stars. Thank god."

Roderich checked the house before entering the garden looking for Elizaveta.  He approached softly, "Hello, dearest friend.  Do you have plans on this fine day?"

She tilted her head back, smiling at him. "I'm assuming since you asked you have something you'd rather I do?"

"Lili is in need of a ribbon for her hair," he responded, returning the smile.  "It was assumed you would like to take her shopping, and I have been elected to make sure that you don't murder Vash's checkbook.  Also because I was the only one present who has any sense of fashion and style."

"Can I frazzle Vash's checkbook?" she asked brightly.

Roderich laughed, "I would love to see Vash's checkbook frazzled.  Let's do it together, hm?"

She laughed, pushing her hair back. "I can't imagine who might have volunteered me for this mission."

"I can honestly say it wasn't me.  I might have been Gilbert."

For a moment she considered, not sure she was thrilled with that. "How many stupid things has he said this morning?"

"I’m pretty sure Vash has wanted to kill him at least once and that's before the third cup of coffee, if the level in the coffeepot was an indication.  I was only there long enough to hear one instance, which means there was probably another as well," Roderich replied.

She shook her head as they stepped back into the house. "Just let me change and I'll meet you by the door."

"Sounds perfect, Lili and I will be waiting there.  I'll see if one of us can wrest Vash's card from him in that time."

"If you can't, I'll arrive with reinforcements," she assured.

Roderich laughed, "Of course."  He inclined his head and went to find Vash and Lili.

A short while later, Elizaveta came down the stairs, her hair tied back. "Did you get the money?" she asked, approaching Roderich.

He held up the debit card with a smile, "I did indeed."

Lili glanced between them, "I don't need much.  Really, a ribbon would be enough."

Elizaveta laughed. "It would be _enough._ But enough is not really what we're going for here." She considered the girl's new haircut and smiled. "Besides, you should really get out of Vash's old clothes and find your own tastes sometime."

Lili looked uncertain at that and Roderich smiled, "Come on, let's go see if we can find something that catches your eye.  You've got a new haircut, now let's see about some new clothes that separate you from your brother just a bit."

"Promise it won't hurt," Elizaveta assured, slinging their arms together.

That finally earned a smile from the girl, "Promise?"

"You have our words," Roderich responded, opening the door and offering them a sweeping bow.

o-o-o

Pausing in front of one of the stores, Sadiq frowned. Even on neutral territory he should have brought a bodyguard, but he hadn't felt like it. He kept spending more and more time out and about, looking as much for information as avoiding Heracles' ever growing colony of cats.

Adjusting his mask, he paused, thinking he heard someone that sounded familiar, turning around in time to see Elizaveta approaching, arm looped with a short girl he didn't recognize instantly, and he wondered how quickly he could go the other way.

They had already stopped by a store to find a ribbon for Lili's hair and a couple of more where they had looked for clothing, though Lili had turned down most of their suggestions.  Roderich did a mental tally and determined that if Lili shopped like that in every store they entered there was little chance of Vash's pocketbook coming to much harm.  He paused to consider a particular window display before shaking his head and moving to catch up with the women, though he nearly stopped when he saw Sadiq a few stores further on.

Elizaveta had seen him too so he didn't even bother to beat a retreat. "You're still around then?" she asked, tone icy and he shrugged, offering her a grin.

"You'd probably have heard if I wasn't, yeah?"

Lili paused, shifting back ever so slightly at Elizaveta's tone toward the man, though she was trying to place him.  Roderich resisted the urge to sigh at that exchange and stepped up on Lili's other side, "Mr. Adnan, what a pleasant surprise."

He blinked in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you out and about again so soon."

"Soon?" Elizaveta asked, glancing around to see if there was a kitchen store nearby.

"We encountered each other earlier this week," Roderich answered, considering if there was any way to keep Elizaveta far from any pots and pans.  Considering that he was hopeless when it came to maps and even worse with the one regarding the mall he thought it unlikely.

"Encountered," she repeated, tone wary and Sadiq shrugged, still grinning. "You mean you actually exchanged words?"

"And coffee," Sadiq said and for a second it looked like Elizaveta was going to find a pan to hit Roderich with.

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to do so, "Yes, and coffee."  He looked toward Sadiq again, "What brings you out today?"

"Allergies," he said finally, as it was true and Roderich already knew about it. The answer didn't cover the annoyance in his chest, the itch to move and keep moving.

"Allergies," Elizaveta said and shook her head.

Roderich nodded once at that, "As good a reason as any I suppose."  Lili glanced between the other three, quietly taking the one shopping bag from Roderich.

"You don't need help carryin' anything, do you?" Sadiq asked and stepped back at Elizaveta's withering glare.

"No, thank you," Roderich answered.  "As I'm sure you can see, we are more than capable of dealing with what we have."

"It's not a matter of capable," Sadiq protested.

"Well," Roderich started, only to hear Lili finally speak up quietly.

"I don't mind if he wants to join us."

Sadiq glanced down at her, almost hidden between Elizaveta and Roderich. "How kind," he said, holding his hand out. "I don't believe I heard your name."

She looked at him for a long moment before shaking his hand, ignoring the way Roderich tensed next to her—accustomed to it from Vash, "Lili."

Before she could draw her hand back he lifted it, kissing the back of her knuckles. "It's quite lovely to meet you," he said, as Eilzaveta turned around suddenly, determined to find a frying pan.

Lili blushed and started to stammer out a response while Roderich turned and caught Elizaveta's arm before she could get very far. She muttered something that might have been several curses on Sadiq's head as he straightened. Roderich murmured under his breath in German, "If you leave now I'm going to be alone in defending Lili."

Lili tugged lightly on a lock of her hair, rocking back very slightly and offering a shy smile, "And, and your name?"

"Sadiq Adnan," he grinned. "I must say, your hair looks adorable. The ribbon is a nice touch."

That earned another smile, "Thank you. I just, I just got it cut."

"It's really lovely," he said. "Whoever did it did masterfully."

Lili bit her lip, not entirely sure how to respond to that, "Th-thank you.  You, you don't think it looks too, too boyish?"

"Boyish?" Sadiq asked, offended. "How could your figure be considered boyish? Perhaps you haven't grown entirely into it yet but you will."

Roderich looked in that direction and frowned slightly, glancing at Elizaveta, "Alright, I'll stay here, you go buy a new frying pan.  Just so I don't have to explain this to Vash."

Lili couldn't help but smile at that, "R-really?"

"You just have to take advantage of what you have," he said, looking her over again. "You can dress boyish, but you don't have to be shapelessly masculine." He considered before snapping his fingers. "I know just the thing, come."

Elizaveta already was heading down the hallway but she froze at that.

Roderich muttered something under his breath before he looked at Elizaveta, "Call me when you have it.  I'll chaperone this."

Lili's eyes widened, "What, what sort of thing?"

"As I said, boyish without being shapeless. Blazers," he said with a nod. "Well cut pants. Probably some button ups, a couple v-neck shirts with different patterns. How do you feel about colors?"

"Do-do you mean what colors I like or if I like to wear them at all?" She asked.

"Both, either," he said, waving a hand as he walked, only vaguely aware of Roderich.

"I, I like them.  I'm not picky."

Roderich caught up to them, "Most of her clothes are neutral, unfortunately. She's always looked good in dark rose, and similar shades."

Sadiq waved another hand. "You can't hide behind neutrals forever," he said. "Rose is a good place to start. Purples, probably some pinks, how do you feel about blue?"

"I, I like blue," Lili replied.  "It's, well it's not my favorite."

"We'll start with the roses and purples," Sadiq nodded. "Maybe some dusty reds and alright, some neutrals."

She smiled, reaching up to touch her ribbon again, "You think this—"

"I think this could be just the thing, actually," Roderich said.

"And Vash won't—"

That earned a smile, "Vash gave me his wallet, not Elizaveta, so I'm sure it will be fine."

Entering the store he'd been heading for, Sadiq glanced around before starting to pick up clothing, holding a couple of them up to Lili before setting a few back and handing a few others to Roderich, several slung over his arm.

Lili's eyes lit up at the sight of a dark red button down blouse and she reached for it, checking the price before backing away from it.  Roderich arched an eyebrow and picked up the blouse in the appropriate size.  The girl started protesting, "Oh, I couldn't, it's so much."

"Your brother has been saving rather than spending for years.  You can afford the blouse," he replied.

"That's good," Sadiq said, coming around the corner with several blazers. "Come on, to the fitting room."

Lili looked at the blazers and glanced between them, "You're sure about this?"

Roderich considered a pair of black slacks and picked them up, handing the clothes in his hands to her, "Yes, we're sure.  Come along, Lili."

"Go go go," Sadiq said, shooing her into the changing room with arms laden down with clothing.

Lili disappeared into the fitting room and Roderich sat down on one of the benches outside, "So, you're here because of allergies?"

"Too many cats in my house," Sadiq said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. "So, yes."

"Why the mall?"

"Because there's people here," Sadiq said, not wanting to admit he started moving and just hadn't stopped, wanting people but not somewhere he'd been in the last month since the wanderlust in his own city had hit him.

Roderich considered and then nodded, "I suppose that makes sense.  Thank you for this, by the way."

"For what?" he said, glancing over.

He nodded toward the dressing room, "She's been concerned about how this all will go since she got up this morning.  In ten minutes and one store you've managed to get her into a dressing room with more clothes than Elizaveta and I were able to between the two of us and a half dozen places."

Sadiq shrugged. "Everything I said was entirely true. She just needs to let go a little. Besides, Elizaveta is too scary to really get someone like that out of their shell."

"Entirely possible.  Unfortunately my life would be worth nothing if I brought Lili out shopping and left Elizaveta behind.  Disregarding the fact that this mall has too many wings," Roderich replied with a faint smile.  "I probably ought to warn you that Elizaveta was purchasing new cookware today."

"I did notice that direction," Sadiq agreed, wanting to comment on the too many wings and deciding not to. "I'm hoping to somehow build up enough good will that she reserves the frying pan for someone else, or some other time."

"You can keep hoping that works," came the response as Lili finally stepped out of the dressing room in the red blouse and medium gray blazer and slacks.  Roderich's brows arched and he smiled, "Lili, you look exquisite."

She blushed at that, turning to get a better look in the mirror at the end of the dressing room hall, "It's too expensive, though."

"I'll cover anything more than I think Vash could handle, alright?  Ignore the price tags today," the brunet insisted.

"Some things are worth it," Sadiq agreed. "And he's right, you look stunning."

Running a nervous hand over the fabric she hesitated, glancing at Roderich who offered her a faint but reassuring smile, "Why don't you see what else you've got in there with you?"  Lili nodded quickly and disappeared back into the fitting room.  The intelligence agent shook his head, "When it comes time to pay for this someone is going to have to distract her."

Sadiq laughed. "If you have the credit card, I can do that."

"I do indeed have the card," came the easy reply.  "And it didn't even take that much of an argument to get it, either."

"So her brother should be supportive," Sadiq shrugged and glanced over at Roderich, staying there for a moment. "Though, you're always welcome to try and take advantage of my impeccable taste as well.

Roderich arched an eyebrow and looked up at Sadiq, "And if I was to take advantage of your impeccable taste, whatever would you dress me in?"

Sadiq hummed, considering. "You have better taste than Elizaveta, and probably substantially more than that other guy I know you live with. You like elegance, so blues and golds... but," he paused, finger brushing the shoulder of Roderich's coat. "Your coat's worn, not new."

"It's still highly functional, and adapts well to shifts in fashion," Roderich said, his glance moving to Saidq's touch on his shoulder before his attention returned to the other man.  "Men's fashion doesn't change much from one year to the next, so the coat is still practical. I don't see much reason to replace it."

Sadiq laughed. "But it'll fall apart eventually. Though it goes to show you care well for your clothes and want them to last. I'd say top of the line except eventually bloodstains would be hard to get out."

That earned a faint quirk of Roderich's lips, "Bloodstains are something that has to be taken into account when it comes to how much one spends on clothing.  There are a few places that sell quality equitable to the top of the line, though the price makes it a bit more bearable to replace ruined clothes."

"And I'm sure those are the places you shop," Sadiq said with a smile.

"Good guess," Roderich responded.  "Though I admit I haven't made any purchases of that sort recently."

"Then it's probably time," Sadiq said, though he was distracted by Lili stepping out of the dressing room again.

The girl turned around, the dark rose accents on the black blazer going well with the v-neck shirt underneath.

Sadiq's grin only widened. "The trick to neutrals," he said, stepping away from Roderich and back to her. "Is to always have some color. Like a scarf or handkerchief, or accents like these."

"I haven't got much in the way of color to accent with," Lili admitted quietly.

"We'll see about remedying that.  Scarves are easy to come by and not overwhelming to the outfit.  A bit of colored jewelry can do the trick as well," Roderich suggested.

"Even a kerchief around the neck," Sadiq nodded. "Once you have the clothes though, the accessories come." He paused and grinned at her in the mirror. "And no one will think you're a boy in this."

That garnered a full smile from her and she smoothed a hand over the blazer, "Thank you."

"Any time," he said agreeably. "I enjoy dressing people."

She smiled and disappeared back into the fitting room again.  Roderich watched her go before looking back at Sadiq, "You know exactly what to say to her.  I have to admit being a bit jealous of that fact."

"It's all the truth," Sadiq said, glancing back over. "Her confidence hasn't come into its own yet either."

"It may also help that you're not Family, so she can assume you're not saying it to make her feel better so that her brother doesn't shoot you—or that's not your only motivation."

"She looks an awful lot like Vash Zwingli," Sadiq remarked, assuming that was her brother.

"Hence the concern about being shot," Roderich replied.

"He's not nearly so scary as your albino," Sadiq shrugged. "Though he's a good shot from all I've heard with a temper that occasionally goes ballistic. I'd never say anything because I was worried about a threat."

That earned a faint smile, "No, you don't seem the type to do so.

"Besides, my territory borders Braginski's," he said with a shrug, to explain why Vash might not be on the top of his threatened by list.

Roderich nodded, "Which is a primary concern to anyone who shares his borders."  His voice dropped to an undertone, "At least you've the intelligence not to directly piss him off."

Sadiq carefully didn't take another jab at the fact the German house had done something so stupid. "Long practice. His father was crazy before him too."

"Runs in the family then?  That bodes well," Roderich muttered.

"Oh, they're crazy in completely different ways," Sadiq rolled his shoulders. "So I have no idea what sorts of genres they have, except that they should never be allowed near vodka."

Roderich removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "I find that few men should be allowed near alcohol."

Sadiq chuckled. "It's why I stick to coffee and hot chocolate with honey, generally speaking." Considering the store at large, he shifted closer again. "So I'm curious now. Would you like me to dress you? Or would you let me?"

As he was leaning in, Elizaveta approached, a new frying pan in the bag she was carrying. The sight of the Head of the House leaning into Roderich's space gave her pause.

Roderich tilted his head up, offering Sadiq a quirk of his lips that passed for a quiet smile, "I think I might be put upon to let you.  It could be quite the experience."

Before Sadiq could say anything except the widening of his eyes, and before Elizaveta could decide whether to brain the two of them or not, Lili stepped out of the dressing room again. Roderich pulled back when he saw Lili out of the corner of his eye, turning his attention to where she stood in a long-sleeved v-neck in a dusty red, and brown pants.  She turned, "What do you think?"

"Good," Sadiq said. "Less formal but still classy."

Elizaveta approached finally, eying Lili before glancing at Sadiq who was offering her a nervous smile.

Roderich blinked at Elizaveta for a moment before turning back to Lili, "It's lovely.  You might even be able to get away with dark greens in addition to the shades of red and rose you've been trying."

"They'd look good with your coloring," Sadiq added.

"You get away with this today," Elizaveta muttered and Sadiq's shoulders relaxed slightly.

Lili tugged at her hair briefly, "Should, should we see about heading home?"

"If you're content," Elizaveta said and Sadiq grinned.

"Just remember what I mentioned yeah?"

"Use accessories to add color when there's a lot of neutrals," Lili responded before slipping back into the fitting room.

Roderich rose from the bench, stretching slightly and looking toward Elizaveta, "Did you find a new frying pan then?"

"It should fulfill its purpose quite admirably," she said and Sadiq grinned over at her.

That earned a wry smile from Roderich, "Then it would appear we had a successful day."

"Quite," Elizaveta agreed, scowling at Sadiq's grin as Lili stepped back out. Sadiq took the clothing from her, handing it to Roderich and whisking her off to look at accessories to consider for future purchases so that Roderich could pay.

Roderich smiled at that and took the clothing and Vash's card up to pay.  "Elizaveta, you look like you wish to use that pan already.  Breaking it in here would hardly be reasonable."

"He's not the sort to be reasonable _around_ ," she replied and paused. "But he made Lili smile more than we managed."

"Managed to get her in more clothes than we did, too," Roderich offered, handing the card to the cashier.

"Good clothes," Elizaveta agreed. "And convinced her she was worth it. Damn it, I really hate that man."

"He's hardly as bad as all that," the brunet protested, signing the slip and pocketing the card, picking up the bags.

"You're only saying that because you don't know him," she protested.

"You're quite probably right, but for the moment we owe him at least a bit of thanks and credit for helping Lili."

She scowled again. "You can thank him. I'm going to try and avoid it."

Roderich paused at that, turning to face her, "What has he done to you?"

"Technically he didn't do it, I did it to him but I still get to be angry," she said, blushing faintly as Sadiq reappeared with Lili.

Roderich stared at Elizaveta for a long moment, "This was that incident two years ago wasn't it?"  He shook his head in exasperation and handed the bags to Lili, "Your clothes, milady."

The girl smiled faintly and took them with a murmured, "Danke."

"Wear them well," Sadiq said, adjusting his mask. "You will look stunning in them. Elizaveta," he said, inclining his head though his voice had gone a shade more stiff. "And Roderich. You haven't forgotten anything recently have you?"

Roderich's lips curled upward very slightly, "I don't believe I have.  Seven, yes?"

"Seven indeed," he said, inclining his head again with a smile before turning and disappearing, Elizaveta staring after him before staring at Roderich.

Roderich watched Sadiq go before clearing his throat and looking to the two women, "Shall we be off then?"

Lili nodded, "I think it's time, yes."

Elizaveta nodded, turning her steps toward home before looking at Roderich. "Seven? What's at seven?"

"A meeting.  Tomorrow," he replied easily.

"With Sadiq? He seemed rather... pleased about the whole thing."

"Are you implying something, dearest friend?"

"I'm implying that you might want to seriously consider how dangerous he is," Elizaveta said, wishing she had hit him with the frying pan. "And be careful."

"I'll be fine," Roderich assured, glancing at her.  "But your concern is noted."

She barely managed not to roll her eyes at him. "I'm glad it's _noted_ then. But you will be careful, won't you?"

"As I always am.  I'm more concerned about tonight than tomorrow, honestly."

"You'll do fine tonight," she hushed. "You always do."

He reached up to adjust his glasses, a nervous tic that he usually curbed, "It's closer to the border than I like."

"You think anyone would dare cross it?" she protested.

"I don't know.  It's just a concern," he sighed.

"You'll be fine," she said, patting his shoulder and looking over at Lili, asking her how she liked her new clothes.

"They're very nice clothes, I really like them. And, well, now I have some idea what to look for if I get more," Lili replied quietly.

"They did look rather stunning on you," she agreed. "He has good taste."

"Expensive though," the girl murmured.

"That's not the point," Elizaveta said.

Gilbert was waiting for them on the steps outside the house, smoking a cigarette. "So, how much is Vash going to flip his—lose his mind?" he amended instead of swearing in front of Lili again where others could hear him.

Lili receded slightly at that, "I, not too much?"

Roderich arched an eyebrow, but gave her a gentle nudge, "How about you go put on some of your new clothes to show Vash?"

She glanced up at him and then nodded, retreating.

"The faster the better, I'm assuming," Gilbert grinned and noticed Elizaveta's new purchase. "Oh shit."

Roderich's lips curled upward at that reaction, "She has yet to actually let me look at it, but I can almost guarantee it's top of the line cast iron."

"Of course it is," Gilbert said and she smiled sweetly at him. "Can we go traumatize Vash yet?"

"How are you traumatizing me?"  Vash said sharply from where he was coming down the hall.

"Easily," Gilbert grinned.

Roderich handed Vash his credit card and the blond examined it, "And the receipts?"  That earned a hesitation before Roderich relinquished the receipt, mentally counting down in his head from three.  " _How_ much for a shirt?"

Gilbert crackled, leaning over Vash's shoulder to see it from himself. "That's not so bad you know. It could be worse."

Vash continued down the list, pointing at one of the blazers, "Like this?"  He looked up at Roderich, "This is the last time you're allowed to touch my accounts."

"Just give these clothes a chance.  Trust me, you'll see that it was worth it," Roderich replied.

Gilbert was still laughing. "Vash, you realize I blow way more money on clothing right?"

"And how much that shows," Elizaveta drawled.

Vash frowned at the total, but folded the receipt and put it into his pocket, "We'll see."

"We'll see now, you mean," Roderich murmured, nodding toward the stairs.

Lili stood on the bottom step, wearing the rose colored v-neck and a pair of black slacks and the black and rose blazer.  She pulled lightly on a lock of her hair, looking entirely unsure. Vash stared at her for a long minute before he crossed to her and reached up to touch the ribbon in her hair, "You look beautiful, Lili."

Even Gilbert's eyes widened slightly and he looked between Lili and Elizaveta and Roderich, sure neither of them had the taste or the charisma to get Lili into such an outfit.

Lili blushed very slightly, "Thank you.  So, so you like it?"

"I think it's perfect.  You look very nice," her brother assured.

"A-plus work there," Gilbert added.

"Would, would you like to see what else?"  She asked, taking Vash's hand.

He nodded, his lips finally quirking into a bit of a smile, "If you want to show me."

She smiled widely and pulled him up the stairs with her to show off the clothes.

"So," Gilbert said as Elizaveta wandered off to unwrap her new frying pan. "Who picked out her clothes?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Roderich asked, glancing at him.

"She would never have paid for that without someone coaxing, and neither you or Elizaveta are that good at clothes shopping," Gilbert said. "Also, I feel like someone heard she was mistaken for a boy and decided to never let that happen again."

"I think _she_ said she was worried her hair looked too boyish and it went from there," Roderich answered part of it without answering.

"Yeah, but who'd she say it too?" Gilbert said. "Because that even shut Vash up and I sortta want to see that more."

"It doesn't really matter.  The point is that it worked out in Lili's favor."

"Yeah, but now I'm curious because I'd also like to see Vash shocked quiet more," Gilbert said with a hissing laugh.

"Invest money in getting Lili more clothes like that from that shop, I'll bet that would do it."  Roderich's lips quirked upward, "I, for one, am going to practice for a while before I prepare for my meet tonight."

"I still want to know who it was!" Gilbert called after him.

"I'll sic Elizaveta and her frying pan on you if you ask again," Roderich called back.

"Won't stop me," Gilbert yelled, and added much more quietly to himself. "Much."  Roderich closed himself into the music room, choosing to ignore everyone for the sake of Strauss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful people who have left us kudos, it's nice to know people are reading and enjoying the work. Your authors live off of words, and would love to hear from you as well and we do our best to reply to all comments (though VS is usually more prompt than Medda is). Hope you're enjoying the story!
> 
> *Alfonso is Portugal. The carnations are both a reference to Spain's flower as well as Portugal's "Carnation Revolution."


	4. Give Me One Good Reason

Lovino paused outside of Antonio's room before knocking lightly on the door and entering. Antonio looked up in surprise from his book. "You don't wait after knocking?" he said, trying to make his tone teasing but his mouth felt dry. Now that he saw Lovino, he couldn't keep Feliciano's words from his mind, or think about the brutal way he'd protected Antonio.

"Wasn't sure you'd answer.  Wanted to see how you were feeling," Lovino responded, staying near the door.

"My leg hurts," he said with a smile. "Other than that, you know, I'm good. Getting there anyway."

Lovino nodded once, hoping to cover his relief, "Good.  It looks like it was just Rodriguez and Acardi."

"Was it?" Antonio managed. "Just them?"

"Rodriguez is refusing to give any other names if it wasn't.  And that doesn't seem likely at this point.  I'll try again in another hour or so," the Italian replied, glancing at his watch.

"How much have you already beat him up?" Antonio asked, voice strained.

"Not enough if he's still holding back information," Lovino replied and managed not to wince, knowing how that sounded.

Carefully setting down his book, Antonio rested his hands on top of the cover, holding them together. "But it's just them? Just because they didn't like me?"

"With the removal of the current head, there would be a power vacuum.  Easier for someone like Rodriguez to integrate himself with the stronger members of the house.  It would require removing myself and Feliciano as well if they wanted a true vacuum," Lovino replied, his fingers tapping against his thigh.

Antonio's hands suddenly curled into fists and he took another breath. "Which won't happen. It won't. You'll all be fine and safe."

"So will you.  I mean, well, after you're on your feet again."

"Which should be soon," Antonio said, closing his eyes and smiling. "I'm not that hurt."

"Good," Lovino nodded slightly, considering that it had been a mistake to come in and see Antonio.

"You did well," Antonio said quietly.

Lovino snorted derisively, "Except for the fact that you got shot and are stuck in bed now."

"Yeah but that's only my leg," Antonio said. "I'm not... I walked away from you, I went somewhere I shouldn't have you couldn't have—"

"You walked away because I picked a fight with you," Lovino replied sharply.  "I didn't move fast enough, I let myself get distracted on my way after you.  I should have been right on your heels rather than clear down the alley."

"Hey Lovi," Antonio said, voice getting smaller and quieter. "Why'd you kiss me?"

He paled at that, ready to bolt, "Wh-what?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" Antonio repeated, dragging his eyes up to meet Lovino's.

"It, I," he shifted back on his heels.  "Because I wanted to."

Antonio frowned at him. "When you were sixteen you tried to kill me."

"Not, not really.  You staved me off, and I wasn't really trying to kill you," Lovino replied, crossing his arms defensively. "I tried the same thing on Feli when we were eight."

Antonio paused a long moment, unsure how he could say what he wanted to without sending Lovino into a sulk. "Your brother seems to think you've been in love with me since you were sixteen. I don't much believe him though."

Lovino scowled at that, "That wasn't his right."

"No," Antonio agreed. "It really wasn't. But you _kissed_ me and then you yelled at me and you protected me and what am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know.  I didn't mean to confuse you.  Hell, I shouldn't have kissed you to begin with.  I thought we went over that," the younger man shifted back on his heels.

Antonio let out a careful breath. "Lovi, do you love me?"

Lovino darted a look toward the door, but responded rather than bolting, "What does it matter if I do?"

"Maybe nothing," he said after a beat. "Maybe everything. _Do_ you?"

"I don't, I don't know," Lovino finally answered.  "Yes?  I, I guess that's what this might be called."

Antonio froze for a moment. "Hey, Lovi?"

He glanced at Antonio, "Yes?"

"I can't ask you for anything," Antonio said and paused again. "I mean, nothing with—can you at least come here? Or sit down or something though?"

Lovino hesitated for a long moment before he crossed the room and pulled a chair over to Antonio's beside and sat down, "You sure you want me around?"

"I always want you around," Antonio said with a strained smile. "It might be a problem but hopefully not today."

The younger man shifted in his chair, "What does it matter if I do love you?  And 'maybe nothing' is not a goddamn answer."

"I said that maybe it meant everything," Antonio said, looking over at him.

"Which still tells me not a goddamn thing."

"Has it really been since you were sixteen?" Antonio asked, not sure what he could say, or what he was willing to say.

"You've given me no reason to answer that," Lovino muttered, raking a hand through his hair and getting hung up on his single long curl.

Antonio's hand twitched, wanting to reach out and touch the curl and not daring. "What do you want me to say?" he asked faintly instead.

"I don't know, but I don't know why you think I would answer these questions more than I have."

"Because I've always adored you," Antonio said quietly. "Because when you hit puberty I thought I'd gone to hell and I couldn't figure out when I'd died. Because I can't ask you for anything except answers."

Lovino blinked at him for a long moment at that, "You're out of your mind."

"For years," Antonio agreed, still quiet. "What makes you say that now?"

"Cause now I know how crazy you are," Lovino replied.  "Why me?"

"What do you mean?" Antonio asked, crossing his arms over his chest, realizing that hardly made him more comfortable and one of his hands came up to wrap around his cross.

"Why _me_?  Why adore me?  I'm..."  He shook his head, "Forget it."

"No, Lovi," Antonio said, hand reaching out before he lowered it back to the edge of the bed. "You're wonderful. I could never... I could never point to point a or point b or why you're beautiful, or the way the sunlight hits your hair and the way you dance and watching your hands when you smoke and a thousand things... But I've adored you and I've loved you and I can't..."

"You can't do this," Lovino murmured, gaze moving to the crucifix around Antonio's neck.  "We can't do this."

"I can't ask you," Antonio said faintly, trying to ignore where his hand was. "Because I can't be sure why you're saying yes. No matter what I—want or feel I can't ask."

"It's been since I was sixteen," Lovino finally answered.  "Why else would I say yes?"

Antonio's smile became even more strained. "You're the one who said I was running your life, protecting your brother's."

The younger man gaped at him, feeling his temper cresting, "You think I'd do anything like that if I didn't want to?"

Antonio laughed. "No, you'd never do something you didn't want to do. But what if? How can I be sure? You're the one," he started and stopped. "Who said all those things. Lovi I just..."

"I hoped they'd be enough to get you to stop, to stop looking at me like that, to stop asking me to dance, to..." he broke off, looking away before he said anything more.

"Oh Lovi," Antonio said, laugh still strained. "Nothing in this world could make me stop looking at you like that. I've tried."

"Well, where's _that_ leave us then?" Lovino snapped.

"I don't know," Antonio said and it sounded lame to his own ears. Hesitating again, he held his hand out to Lovino. "I still don't know how to ask you for anything."

Lovino paused for a long moment before taking Antonio's hand, "Would you even if you did?"  He looked at Antonio's crucifix pointedly.

"Can I touch you?" Antonio asked instead, twining their fingers together and pressing their palms against each other.

Lovino hesitated but nodded, "Yes."

Still not quite able to ask for Lovino to come closer, Antonio tugged him out of the chair and onto the edge of the bed, twisting with a hiss to wrap his arms around Lovino's shoulders and bury his face in his hair.

Startling at that, Lovino tensed, "Don't hurt yourself, idiot."

"I'm not," Antonio said, tugging him closer and twining one of his hands in Lovino's hair, finally reaching the curl and tugging on it like he'd thought about for years.

Leaning into that touch before he thought about it, Lovino hummed, his eyes closing, "What do you want?"

"Everything," Antonio said, rubbing his nose into Lovino's hair, before tilting his head and wrapping the stray curl around his finger. "Lovi, I've loved you far longer than I should have any right to."

His breath caught at that, his heart rate picking up, "And when you finally realize that this is a mistake?"

"I'll never realize it's a mistake," Antonio said, still pulling on the curl. "How could you be a mistake?"

"Because I am," Lovino answered without giving a satisfactory reply, leaning into the touch further before opening his eyes, the pupils wider than they had been moments before.  He hesitated and then turned to kiss Antonio before he could think about it. Antonio melted against him, hand still tugging the curl back as he ran his hand back around Lovino's head. His other hand held onto his waist, and he tried to pull Lovino closer.

Lovino hummed into the kiss, pressing closer to Antonio and parting his lips slightly.  He shifted, part of his mind present enough to attempt to keep away from Antonio's injured leg but only barely. Hands trailing down as his mouth opened, Antonio pulled him over to straddle his lap, above where his leg was shot to press their chests together. Tensing at that sudden motion, Lovino nearly pulled back but caught himself and rested one of his hands on Antonio's shoulder, the other moving to tangle in the older man's dark hair.

"Lovi," Antonio said, jerking back suddenly. "Did you lock the door?"

Lovino drew back, blinking as he tried to sort out what Antonio had asked and what the answer was through the haze his mind was in, "Wh—"  His eyes widened, "No.  Fuck.  No."  He shoved himself off of Antonio's bed, hoping he missed the other's leg but not sure he had.

Antonio made a strangled noise, which was only made worse when he automatically tried to lunge after the other and flopped back onto the bed.

"Let me lock the door, idiot," Lovino growled, dodging Antonio's attempt to grab him.

Antonio swallowed hard. "A... a little warning next time?" he managed weakly.

"Sorry," Lovino muttered, making sure the door was locked before he turned back around. "I hit your leg, didn't I?"

"Not much," Antonio replied, not adding that he might be on more pain meds than was strictly legal at the moment. Now that Lovino was across the room he felt his stomach twist and grow warm when he got a look at how ruffled Lovino's hair was.

Carefully approaching, Lovino considered the other, "Alfonso will kill us if you get hurt more."

"Worth it," Antonio dismissed and held out a shaking hand. "Will you?"

"Will I what?"  Lovino finally reached the bedside and caught Antonio's hand.  He was pretty sure he would regret this in the future, but he was trying not to think about that.

"I was going to ask if you'd come back to me," Antonio replied, pressing their palms together again. "Which you answered already."

"I locked us in together.  Not much point in doing that if I wasn't."

"Th-that's true," Antonio said and pulled against Lovino's neck with his other hand, pulling him back into the kiss.

Lovino melted into the kiss, gingerly moving to straddle Antonio's lap again without ever drawing away. Letting out a high pitched sound, Antonio wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer before he broke the kiss to drag his mouth along Lovino's throat. Gasping at that contact, Lovino let his head fall back, his hands fluttering for a moment before coming to rest against Antonio's chest.

Shifting closer, Antonio moved back to the top of Lovino's throat before dragging his teeth across the skin instead of just his lips. "There have been... so many things I've done..."

Shuddering, Lovino tried to swallow back a moan, "Y-you and me both."

"But Lovino," Antonio said, dropping the nickname for a moment. "I'd rather go to Hell for loving and having you than any of the other reasons I'm going to."

The younger man froze at that, shifting back to look Antonio in the eye, "You, you mean that?"

Antonio looked up from where his mouth was still pressed against Lovino's throat before slowly nodding and drawing back so they were eye to eye again. "Yes. For love and desire over anything else."

"I..."  He decided he didn't want to deal with that and pressed back into another kiss.

Pulling him tighter against his chest, Antonio ran his tongue across the roof of Lovino's mouth, fingers tightening at his waist Pressing flush against Antonio, Lovino trailed open mouthed kisses along his jawline, his hands sliding down the other's arms.

Hesitating just a moment longer, Antonio pulled his shirt out of his pants and dragged his fingertips up his spine. A shudder went through Lovino at that touch and he bit Antonio's collarbone to stifle a moan. Antonio brought his uninjured leg to press against Lovino's side, pressing the side of his face into his hair. "Lovi," he murmured, focusing on breathing in and out.

Lovino let his forehead fall to rest against Antonio's shoulder, muttering and trying to find his breath again, "I-idiot, you're still injured."

"Worth it," he said, but he brought his hands back to Lovino's waist and try to push him back slightly as he tried to catch his breath back.

It took a moment before Lovino was willing to move back at all, giving them both a bit of breathing space even if he was still sitting in Antonio's lap.  His cheeks were flushed and his hair in complete disarray as his hazel eyes scanned Antonio's features.

"Jesus fuck," Antonio said, eyes wide and forgetting entirely that what he was saying was blasphemy. "Do you have any idea—"

Lovino tensed but before he responded like he might normally he met Antonio's eyes and reminded himself of what had been said before this all started.  His breathing was still heavy and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it even a little bit, "I can guess."

Antonio instantly reached up and ran his fingers through his hair again, ruffling it even more dramatically. "The way you look."

"Completely debauched if I look anything like you," Lovino tilted his head back slightly out of reach and shook it to get some of the hair to lay down again.

Antonio made a strangled sound, leaning forward and reaching out. "Come back?" he asked, dropping his hands back to Lovino's waist and pulling. Lovino hesitated a moment before obliging and leaning in again to trace his fingers down Antonio's throat.

"I have wanted you for so long," he said, tilting his head back. "And you scare me."

Taking advantage of that to nip at Antonio's throat, laving his tongue over the spot, Lovino pulled back just enough to murmur, " _I_ scare you?"

"Terrify me," Antonio said, a note of cheeriness in his voice. "Mind numbingly so. That you might leave. That I might love you too much." He stopped there, not adding the fear that somehow, he might destroy the other. His lusts and desires had always burned deeply which is why he tried to hide them behind a vacant smile. His strategy wasn't working anymore.

"That _I_ might leave," Lovino sounded skeptical at that, his breath still ghosting over Antonio's skin.  "That is one thing you don't need to worry about."

"Do you think _I'm_ leaving?" Antonio asked in shock.

"I don't know," came the surprisingly honest answer.

Antonio swore, something quick and quiet in Spanish before slamming his mouth back against Lovino, accidently rattling their teeth and not caring. Lovino yelped at that, but found himself pressing into the kiss nevertheless, catching Antonio's lower lip between his teeth.

Making a muffled sound at that, Antonio drew back and leaned against the headboard of the bed, pulling the first few buttons of his shirt undone before dragging the entire thing over his head.

Lovino drew back again, his gaze raking over Antonio's chest, "D-damnit, you're injured, idiot."

"Then don't jar my leg," Antonio said, hand resting on the crucifix he wore before he pulled that over his head as well, setting it on the bedside table.

Eyes following the crucifix, Lovino swallowed hard and nodded before reaching forward to trail his hands lightly over Antonio's chest. Tilting his chest into the touch, Antonio made a soft sound, not quite a catch in his breathing. Wrapping his arm around Lovino he dragged him back in as close as he would come, nudging their mouths together carefully.

Lovino's breath caught and he leaned into the kiss, pressing against Antonio and only half noticing that he was still fully clothed. Antonio groaned, feeling even Lovino's shirt against his skin more sensation than he was expecting, a hand dragging down his back.

Lovino pushed back again, his hands shaking and something almost nervous in his eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it before returning.  He pressed a desperate kiss to Antonio's lips, keeping an inch of space between their bare chests for the moment. Growling at that in the confines of Lovino's mouth, Antonio yanked him closer. Except then he pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Lovino's bare shoulder as his hands continued to move. "Do you want this?" he asked, sounding as if it pained him to take the time to ask but needing to.

There was a brief hesitation before Lovino nodded very slightly, "We're moving so fast."

His fingers curled around Lovino's waist, hard enough to bruise and he took a deep breath. "Do you need me to stop? How far are you..." he took another breath as if that would help. "Willing to go?"

"Don't stop," the other murmured.  "I...I don't know how far. It's, we," he clenched his jaw and shook his head, "I'm fine.  I want this."

"If I don't stop now," Antonio managed, breath hitching again. "I might not be able to. I'll try, I'll try if you say but I've wanted you for far too long."

Lovino drew a shaky breath, "I want this, Antonio.  Please."

Growling again, the sound almost a muffled roar, Antonio bit his shoulder before drawing back to kiss him again, moving with more calmness than earlier but every gesture possessive. Pressing into the kiss, Lovino arched against Antonio, shifting his position on his lap and opening his mouth against the other's lips.

Antonio made muffled sounds against his mouth, pulled at his hips and feeling like he might shake apart at any moment. "Love you," he said, dragging his mouth across Lovino's face. Lovino moaned softly, running his hands down Antonio's chest to rest against the front of his hips.

"I can't get your pants off," Antonio murmured into his ear before sucking on the lobe. Idly he thought about whether or not he could convince Lovino to pierce it with gold.

Making a soft sound in the back of his throat, Lovino shifted back again to shimmy out of his pants.  He dropped them off the side of his bed and leaned forward to kiss Antonio's throat. Twisting his hips around, Antonio tried to push the blanket away without dislodging Lovino before dragging him down with him against the pillows.

o-o-o

Stomping into Arthur's office in combat boots, brightly colored t-shirt an offense to the eyes, Alfred dropped into the chair in front of Arthur and propped his feet up on the desk. Arthur scowled at the boots that were suddenly on the edge of his map and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray by his left hand, "Alfred, remove those muddy things from my map.  Now."

"It's an old map," Alfred shrugged.

"Old or not, I'm working on it.  Move your boots."

Rolling his eyes, Alfred dropped them and grinned at his uncle, his hands behind his head. "How's it going in here then, old man?"

Arthur offered him an unimpressed look at that, pointedly brushing his desk off where Alfred's boots had been, "Fine until you showed up.  What do you want?"

"Well, I was going to tell you that the meeting with Kiku went great, thanks for asking. Yao Wang still refuses to deal with you, by the way. Something about you fucking him over in the past and you can just stuff it? You would not believe how much Kiku blushed while trying to say all that either."

Arthur snorted, "Yes, I can imagine it was quite the sight.  I do rather wonder what your definition of poorly is if that is 'great.'"

"Because Kiku was fucking adorable and watching him blush was great," Alfred grinned. "Plus, no shooting. Huge plus."

"We'll call it a wash," Arthur corrected, making a small mark of confirmation in the Asian house's territory.  "Did Yao at least give some assurance that we won't be fighting him should it come down to it?"

"Kiku wasn't actually able to really repeat what Yao said, but I think the gist was so long as the eyebrow fucker stays off my territory and away from my people it'll be fine," Alfred shrugged.

"Well, we shall have to make certain that we do that, then, shan't we?"  He scribbled a note down to make certain direct orders were given regarding which territories were to be avoided.

"I think he might even want to be isolated," Alfred said, staring at the ceiling. "Ah, I hope not. Kiku's way too much fun to tease, I'd hate for him to disappear."

"At the rate the city's going, isolationism may be best, frankly," Arthur replied without looking up.  He paused for a moment and glanced up at Alfred, "It's not usually a good idea to tease the other negotiator, as a rule.  Perhaps I should start sending your brother with you."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," Arthur replied, setting his pen down and resting his hands firmly on his desk.

"Kiku and I get along fine, thank you," Alfred said with a scowl, not wanting to admit the real reason why, starting with Kiku's blush and ending with Alfred's habit of making him meet him at ice cream parlors.

"And yet by your own admission you prefer to tease him.  And as Yao has no inclination to deal with us at all, I see no reason to continue our communications with their house," Arthur responded, straightening up and lighting a cigarette.

"You're such a bastard," Alfred said, tone less mild.

"Give me a reason not to be, Alfred.  Because at this point all I see is one of my heirs conferring with a house that would probably be perfectly happy if ours didn't exist," Arthur snapped.

"Gallivanting might be better," Alfred muttered. "Won't we need good relations with them when Yao's out of the way?"

"Yes because gallivanting sounds ever so much better," the older man drawled.  "We will need good relations, but I'm not entirely certain you're the one to establish them."

Alfred sat up straight for the first time since entering the room. "He likes me though. We get along well and we get things done, what little there is to get done. It's not our fault you and Yao are constantly in a tiff."

"There's the closest you've come to a logical argument since coming in here.  I knew you could manage it.  Now try to apply some logic to why I shouldn't send Matthew or Liam with you the next time," Arthur challenged, meeting Alfred's gaze steadily.

"Liam would scare him off," Alfred said, tone steady. "Nothing would get said. Matthew's an unknown too."

Arthur considered that before nodding slightly, "And why shouldn't I have you followed?  I don't trust Yao's house any more than Yao trusts mine."

Alfred's eyes widened and then narrowed. "I can take care of myself. Besides, you old bastard, you don't trust anyone."

"And it's kept me alive this long," came the quick response.  "You've yet to prove to me that you can take care of yourself.  You're still too trusting by half, Alfred.  You always have been."

"Also because I don't piss people off as much as you," Alfred pointed out and smirked. "People are drawn to my hero like qualities and charisma."

"And then they get to know you."

In a picture of sheer maturity, Alfred stuck his tongue out.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "If anything, the slightest thing, goes wrong I will have Cameron follow you and set Matthew to join you.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, yeah old man, you never like things going wrong, I get it," Alfred said and rolled his eyes.

"Too many things are at a tipping point to risk one more," Arthur replied, tersely.  "Disregarding the power change in the Roman house—though the last thing we needed was Carreido coming to power—the German information officer was shot last night on a meet within their own borders."

"And dumped on the German house doorstep I know," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Clear message, yada yada. What's your problem with Carreido anyway?"

"He and I have never seen eye-to-eye, and I still haven't had the opportunity to find out if my agreements with Vargas still stand," Arthur replied.  "He's been shot as well—within in territory by members of his own house supposedly.  Which means he doesn't have much control over them, which could lead to wide-spread problems."

"Well, if he's shot it's probably a god time to go talk to him," Alfred shrugged. "Since he can't much move or anything. Wasn't he, I don't know, not the obvious heir?"

"And put myself at the heart of his territory rather than on neutral ground.  Brilliant idea, Alfred," Arthur shook his head.  "No, both of the Vargas twins were passed over in order for him to become Head, but it's probably better in the long run that they were even if it is causing unrest within his House."

"Yeah, but I still don't understand what you have against him," Alfred said, stretching his arms up to the ceiling.

"His presence tends to agitate the few Houses I haven't got a direct quarrel with.  Which means that although it's good to have the Roman house on our side it adds to the Houses that aren't likely to be."

"It's more personal than that though, isn't it?" Alfred asked.

Arthur offered him a long look at that, "What exactly are you implying, Alfred?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "So far as I know you didn't sleep with him, so at least we don't have to deal with the clusterfuck you probably opened with Sadiq, I'm just curious what it _is_ if not that."

"What it is, is several years past and not really any of your business," Arthur responded, ignoring the phantom pain that went through his bad leg at the thought of how that injury was sustained.

"Whatever," Alfred stretched again. "So this German guy... you think it was the Russians?"

"Braginski has the most cause to actively enter German territory and take out their lead intelligence officer," Arthur agreed, penciling in another note on the map.

Alfred snorted. "Why does everyone act so damned scared of that man?"

That earned another long look from the Head of the House, "Because we all have a few brain cells to our name."

"Oh my god," Alfred said, rolling his eyes and stomping his combat boots back on the ground to stand. "There is no way that man is as scary as everyone keeps acting."

"Have you ever actually encountered him?"  One dark, thick eyebrow arched as he considered the young man across the desk.

"No," Alfred shrugged. "I've seen pictures and shit. He looks like a spaz."

"His preferred weapon is a broken faucet pipe.  And he's good at it.  He's gone up against men with guns, that's plural on both counts, and won.  With a _pipe_."

Alfred blinked once. "He still looks like a spaz," he said, something about the vacant smile in the photographs making him want to punch the bearer in the face to see if that would make him keep smiling.

Arthur rubbed his eyes wearily, "Does nothing I say to you ever get through?"

"He uses a pipe," Alfred shrugged. "Against guns. So he's a crazy spaz and they were bad shots. I still don't get it."

He grit his teeth as he responded, " _Never_ underestimate your opponent.  If I've told you that once I've told you a thousand times.  It will get you killed or worse."

"No one beats the hero," Alfred said in a sing song voice, like he used to when he was a child only to see the furious look on Arthur's face.

Arthur's entire body tensed like a coiled spring and his teeth ground together audibly as he tried to keep his temper in check, "If it doesn't get you killed it will get someone else in the Family killed.  Someone who it's your responsibility to protect, most likely."  His green eyes hardened and his voice dropped, "Get out of my office."

Alfred's eyes narrowed and he didn't move. "I won't get anyone killed you old bastard."

"You can't guarantee that.  And you won't know that until they're on the ground bleeding out at your feet," Arthur snarled.

"Look old man, I know you have issues because of your fuck ups, but don't project them onto me!" Alfred snapped.

Arthur resisted the urge to throw a letter opener at the young man across from him and hope it imbedded itself, "Damn you, Alfred.  For once just listen to what I'm saying! You're too reckless and you're going to get someone hurt!"

"I am going to prove you wrong," Alfred snapped, contrary streak flaring up. With that he turned around and stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

Arthur swore, finally pitching his empty letter caddy at the door and watching with satisfaction as it connected with the wood before he lit another cigarette and moved away from the desk to try and focus his mind before going back to work.

Once out of the door, Alfred kicked it, scowling in annoyance. "Old bastard," he swore.

Matthew paused a couple of doors down the hall, watching his older brother, "Have another fight with Arthur?"

"I need a fucking hamburger," Alfred muttered.

"So that's a yes."  Matthew glanced toward the closed office door and decided he would rather not be around when it opened again, "Can I join you?"

"Sure," Alfred shrugged. "Let's go. I'd hate to stand around here more than I have too."

"Do I get to ask what you two said, or are we going for hamburgers to forget that?"

"We're going to forget that because I am _not_ reckless," Alfred snarled and realized how petty that made him sound before snapping his mouth shut.

Matthew blinked once before sighing, "He went back to that one again?"

"Of course he went back to that one," Alfred said, throwing his hands in the air. "You think at his age he'd have more than one fucking comeback!"

"And you probably stormed out right after which is the height of creativity," Matthew said quietly before he thought about it.

"Compared to him?" Alfred protested. "I'm a fucking genius."

That earned the faintest of smiles from Matthew and he patted his brother's shoulder, "Of course, Alfred."

"You better not be patronizing me," Alfred muttered, already fairly sure his brother was.

"I'm not patronizing you," Matthew lied.  "But maybe there's a chance that he doesn't mean it as comebacks?"

"Hell do you mean?" Alfred asked, looking down.

"I mean that maybe he thinks he's as in the right as you do.  Even if he's not," he was quick to add.

"He's clearly not," Alfred snapped, not calm enough to even consider the point yet.

Matthew suppressed a sigh and nodded, "As I said.  So, hamburgers.  Think we could see about milkshakes too?"

"I suppose so," Alfred said, agreeing much more enthusiastically in his head than he was willing to out loud.

That earned a knowing smile from his brother as Matthew opened the front door, "Great!" Alfred made a dissatisfied sound but he smiled at that.


	5. The Old Order Goes Together

Alfonso pushed the door open, having picked the lock almost automatically and wondering why his injured brother would have bothered locking the door. He stopped dead at the sight of Lovino's curl poking out of the sheets as Antonio sat up, probably not all the way awake before he started moving.

Blinking once, Alfonso arched his brows. "Huh."

Lovino made a soft sound when Antonio moved, but came fully awake when he realized the door was open.  He tensed and sat up enough to see it was Alfonso before turning bright red and ducking down again, swearing under his breath in Italian.

"Later, I'm going to give you the lecture about moving your freshly shot leg too much," Alfonso said. "But because I'm so fucking happy that you morons figured it out, we'll let that go today." With that he turned around and shut the door after him. The second the door shut, Lovino was moving, shoving the blankets back and trying to find his clothes from where they'd been discarded.

"Wait, what're," Antonio started, lunging forward to wrap his arms around the other's waist, holding him against his chest.

Lovino struggled, shoving at Antonio's hands, "Get off.  I've got-I've got work to do."

"I'm your boss," Antonio protested, burying his face in Lovino's shoulder.

"Let go," the younger man twisted in Antonio's grip.  "I can't stay here all day."

"Couldn't you?" Antonio asked, sounding wistful.

"No, damnit," Lovino muttered, trying to get loose still.

"Lovi," Antonio said, voice pitched in pain. "Don't go like this."

"Like, like what?" He glanced at Antonio and then away.

"Like you're angry at me," he said, scraping his teeth along Lovino's shoulder before kissing the same patch of skin. "Like you're running away."

"I'm not angry at you," his breath caught at the contact on his shoulder and he didn't deny the second accusation.

"But you are running away when I can't follow," Antonio said, tightening his grip.

"Not forever.  I just, I have things I need to do."

"Not forever is a very vague time," Antonio murmured, kissing over to Lovino's other shoulder.

"If-if I give you a time when I'll be back, will you let me go?"  Lovino tried to bargain.

Antonio tensed and let out a careful breath. "Do you promise you'll come back?"

Lovino paused for a moment and then nodded, "Yes."

With another soft sound, Antonio nodded to accept that answer but he shifted Lovino to face him, cupping his cheeks with both hands and kissing him.

Still tense, Lovino returned the kiss, carding his hand through Antonio's hair before pulling back, "But I have to go now."

"Be careful," Antonio murmured, automatically. Hopefully there wouldn't be anything Lovino had to be careful of. He kissed his temple before pulling back again. "And I love you."

Lovino nodded, "I will be."  He still refused to address the emotions swirling between them.  Pulling his clothes on and trying to straighten himself up he retreated for the door.

"Hey, Lovi?" Antonio called, wanting to say something more, wanting to touch him again. "Could you at least... ask someone to feed me while you're gone?"

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Lovino nodded, "I'll make sure that happens."  He glanced back at Antonio once more before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Antonio flopped back against the pillows, wincing at the ache in his leg even as he grinned at the ceiling. Except he wasn't sure why he was grinning, Lovino had all but run away. But he'd promised to come back and that, for the moment, was what mattered. Touching his tongue to the top of his mouth, he thought he could still taste Lovino there and sighed happily.

Lovino ducked through the halls he knew saw the least use until he reached the kitchen.  He stepped inside and caught the first person he saw by the arm, mentally cursing when he realized it was his twin, "Antonio needs someone to take him breakfast."

Feliciano blinked at that before calling that information over his shoulder to the people actually in charge of breakfast before turning back to his brother and catching his shirt before Lovino could retreat, "These are the same clothes you were wearing yesterday."

Wrenching away and leaving the kitchen, Lovino shrugged, "So what?"

"So your hair's ruffled, your clothes are the same, and you just said Antonio needs breakfast," Feliciano kept pace as best he could.  "I'm taking guesses here, are they right?"

"How the hell should I know what you're guessing?"

"Because it's clear.  You and Antonio _finally_ got over yourselves around each other."

Lovino shot him a dark look, "That's not your business."

"But you don't deny it."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're here instead of still curled up with him," Feliciano answered simply.

"I'm not a cuddler."

That earned Lovino a skeptical look from his twin, "Right, of course.  You're going to go beat Rodriguez some more aren't you?"

"I think he's still holding out on me," Lovino said, reaching the stairs to the basement.

Feliciano sighed, "Be careful."  He shook his head and left Lovino to whatever he was planning before he went and searched the house for Alfonso.  He entered the room and just sat down, not saying anything.

Glancing up from the magazine he was reading, cigarette in one hand, Alfonso blinked at him. "Can I help you?"

"Lovino and Antonio," Feliciano said, not elaborating and wondering how much Alfonso knew.

"You walk in on them too?" Alfonso asked, tone still surprisingly idle.

Feliciano shook his head, "No, Lovino came down to the kitchen to let us know that Antonio needed breakfast."

Alfonso blinked. "That's not so much with the good."

"And it gets better.  He then went to finish his interrogation of Rodriquez.  Still looking like he'd just fallen out of bed."

With another blink, Alfonso sighed, dropping the magazine and leaning back to take a drag of his cigarette. "Shit."

"They actually did get together though?"

"Antonio was naked, I didn't get a good look at your brother," Alfonso shrugged. "That was less than half an hour ago."

"Great, so they had sex and Lovino ran off again," Feliciano sighed.  "They're never going to sort this out are they?"

"They had sex, that's a massive step into the right direction of feelings," Alfonso said.

Feliciano shook his head, "Which would be promising if it was anyone except Lovino and Antonio we're talking about."

Alfonso sighed. "I suppose that's true. Antonio though... if he got over himself enough to sleep with Lovino, he's not going to back down. In fact, I don't think you brother has any idea what he just got himself into."

"That's probably true, but I think you're underestimating how stubborn Lovi can be when he's avoiding someone or something."

"And Antonio's not mobile," Alfonso mused. "But when he wants something, he will get it. Sooner or later."

Feliciano sighed, "This is going to get worse before it gets better again isn't it?"

"It might," he agreed. "Hopefully the idiots aren't that stupid."

"Ignoring evidence that says otherwise," came the murmured response.  Feliciano shook his head and rose, "I'm going back to my paintings."

"And what are you painting today?" Alfonso asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Working on one of Antonio, actually.  Got the sketch for his face earlier this week."

"Well shit," Alfonso blinked. "I was going to tell you not to paint anything that would traumatize either of them."

"I figure it's a visual way to show the house that I support Antonio as Head," Feliciano shrugged very slightly.  "It's not really a matter of whether it traumatizes him, it's about the symbology of art.  And the fact that a certain view of a painting can associate that with a person in peoples' minds.  Which needs to happen."

"True," Alfonso agreed. "But your brother is going to try and kick your ass for this."

"Lovino's the one who vaguely half-suggested the idea to me, so if he tries I'll remind him of that.  And the fact that I agreed to hide the painting I did of him where Antonio won't find it," Feliciano replied with a smile.

"On the other hand, giving the painting to Antonio to hang in his room—which he would—might just shock one of them into doing something," Alfonso shrugged.

"No, at that point Lovino would bypass kicking my ass and move straight to the killing.  I like my life a bit too much for that."

"Yeah, but it'd be fun," Alfonso grinned.

Feliciano blinked at that, "For you."

"Isn't that what would matter?" Alfonso grinned over at him.

That earned a laugh, "Probably.  I'll see you later, Alfonso."

"Good luck with it all," Alfonso said with a wave, stubbing out his cigarette and deciding to go check on his brother now that he knew Lovino was gone.

o-o-o

Roderich groaned softly as he came slowly into wakefulness, pain throbbing dully through his body.  "Oh, good, you're finally awake."  Slowly opening his eyes, the brunet turned his head in the direction of the voice to see a blurry Vash standing there with his arms crossed.

"How," he grimaced and cleared his throat as he tried to reach for where he assumed his glasses were, only to have them shoved into his hand, "How long was I out?  What the hell happened?"

"Your meet went south.  You got shot and dropped on our doorstep.  It's Saturday afternoon now."

Roderich pushed himself up quickly, swearing as that made the pain worse, "I have a meeting I need to be at tonight."

"Nothing on the schedule," Vash arched an eyebrow, the rest of his face impassive.

"My contact's skittish so, no, it's not on the schedule."  He reached for his phone, intending to call Sadiq and explain and reschedule, but Vash beat him to it.

"You're not allowed to work in this state and you know it.  Rule of being _shot_."

"It's not work if I'm cancelling," Roderich protested, starting to get off the bed regardless of the pain, but was stopped by Vash's hand on his chest.

"It counts."  He flipped to the recent calls and hit send on the first number he didn't recognize, deftly avoiding the grab Roderich made for the phone as the other end rang in his ear.

Roderich saw the instant Vash heard the voicemail.  The blond paled and a muscle in his jaw started twitching as he clicked out of the call.  "Before, before you say anything I told you it was contact."

Vash started speaking in German and rapidly switched between Italian, French, and English, cycling through all four languages and unable to settle on a single one, "A contact?  Is that what you call the Head of the Mediterranean House?  You are more of an idiot than I thought.  I expect you to tell me everything before I break your arm!"  His voice was rising rapidly in pitch and he could see Roderich's expression closing off, "You idiot!"

"Why's Roderich being an idiot?" Gilbert asked, poking his head in. "And you're yelling at someone who just woke up you know."

"He deserves it," Vash growled, still glaring at Roderich.

"I do not.  You're the one who stole my phone."

"Good thing I did too.  What the hell are you thinking?"

"What's he thinking about what?" Gilbert asked, moving into the room and closing the door as it had been the sound of yelling that had drawn him down the hallway.

"He has a meeting with a 'contact' tonight.  Who appears to be—"

"Vash, for the love of god, shut up," Roderich all but begged.

Vash offered him a sour look and finished, "Sadiq Adnan."

"The head of the fucking House?" Gilbert yelped in surprise. "Why are you meeting with him? And why would you walk yourself into two traps in a row?"

"The meeting with Sadiq is not a trap.  It's on neutral territory and the Mediterranean House has no quarrel with us," Roderich said simply, his tone clipped.

"Because that's a guarantee of anything," Vash muttered.

"Actually, now that you're awake, I think you should be reminded of all the reasons that going to meets, _alone_ , is bad for you," Gilbert said, voice pitching higher. "You're such a moron and now you're gonna meet with that shady guy? You're mad, Roderich."

"He's far less shady than you are, Gilbert," Roderich responded icily, though he didn't address the idea of going to meets alone.

"The man wears a mask.  No one sees behind that thing," Vash replied.  "And if you even think that you're going to another meet on your own you're insane.  Not that you're going to whatever it is you're doing tonight."

"Thank god for small favors at least," Gilbert said and paused. "Why were you meeting with him anyway? We have like, no business with that house."

"He knows more about the Russian house than we do," Roderich lied easily, a single blink the only tell that he might be doing so.

"Uh-huh," Gilbert managed and then shrugged. "Whatever. You can't go tonight so it's a moot point."

"Give me my phone so I can cancel, then," Roderich looked at Vash who pocketed the phone.

"Not likely."

"So are you volunteering to go and explain why I'm unable to make a pre-arranged meeting?"

Gilbert snorted. "What, Vash and Adnan? You know, I would go along for that just to see what would happen."

"No," both of the other men responded.

"What just happened to none of us should go out alone?" Gilbert asked.

"You anywhere near the Head of another House is the worst plan I have heard in a very long time," Roderich answered.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, it would be entertaining and I'm so bored."

Vash seemed to be considering it, but Roderich cut in, "I would rather send Elizaveta with him."

"She hates Adnan," Vash countered.

"My point exactly," Roderich replied with a frown.

Vash shook his head, "Gilbert, for once, might have a point.  We shouldn't be going out alone right now.  And he's here, which means no one else in the House needs to know about this."

"See?" Gilbert said. "It's entirely logical. Besides, I want to figure out how this meeting even happened."

"I'm more curious about how his number ended up in your phone," Vash added.

"Neither is actually relevant," Roderich protested.

"Oh yes it is," Gilbert protested. "You have a Head's number in your phone, and a meeting on neutral territory. It could be downright scandalous if Otho ever found out."

"Or worse," Vash added.

"Like I said, he has more information on the Russian House than we do and I want to see if it can be of use," Roderich said.  "We encountered each other this past week and it seemed a good opportunity."

Gilbert paused, thinking. "When did you encounter each other?"

Roderich paused at that, "Last Sunday."

"On your day off?"  Vash arched an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Do you ever stop working?" Gilbert huffed.

"It's not really an option when you're in charge of Intelligence.  Things don't keep happening just because I take a day off," Roderich said, shaking his head.

"So he's not the one with the impeccable fashion taste who picked out all of Lili's clothes?" Gilbert asked.

Roderich paused just a moment too long in finding an answer for that and Vash rounded on him, "You mean to tell me that you let him near my sister?!"

"I knew someone else must have done it," Gilbert said, with a hissing laugh as he shook his head. "Though," his expression became more serious. "That's not the answer I expected."

"He has good taste, and he had some idea of where to even begin looking for clothes that would suit her," Roderich responded, watching Vash warily as the blond seemed caught between adding another gunshot wound to his body and simply taking his pain medications away.

"Be nice Vash," Gilbert laughed at his face. "In fact, you should probably thank the man. So when is this meeting anyway?"

Roderich frowned but finally replied, "Seven.  I'll write the address down for you."

"Should we dress nice?" Gilbert teased.

"Neither of you would know how to dress nice if people didn't lay clothes out for you," came the acerbic response as Roderich accepted a pen and paper from Vash to scribble down the address.

"It's a choice, not a condition," Gilbert laughed.

"I don't believe you."

Vash looked at the address, "Wait, I know this place."

"Now I want to dress up just to prove you wrong," Gilbert pouted.

"If we're going to this meet we're probably going to need to," Vash muttered.  "It's not the highest end, but it's a whole lot nicer than what we're wearing."

"You could always ask Lili's advice," Gilbert teased.

"I will shoot you and you can stay here with Roderich," Vash promised.

"Then you'd have to tell somewhere else where you're going," Gilbert said, already beating a hasty retreat down the hallway rather than allow Vash the chance to make good on his threat.

Vash growled after him before offering Roderich a glare, "You are sending me with that idiot to tell the Head of the Mediterranean House why you missed a _dinner date_.  You owe me a lot for this one."

"We'll add it to my tab," Roderich muttered, taking off his glasses and leaning back against the pillows as Vash finally left and all but slammed the door behind him.

A short while later, Ludwig came down the stairs and stopped dead when he got a look at his brother. "What the hell?" he managed. Gilbert had actually combed his hair, getting most of it out of his eyes and wore a pressed dark blue blazer and pants, even his white shirt pressed, black and blue tie actually tied.

"Thank you for that," Gilbert gave his brother a long look.

"You..." Ludwig shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Just be on time, hm?"

"I'm always on time," Gilbert shrugged, though he couldn't think of what he was supposed to be on time for that night. He just figured Ludwig was expecting the worst of him and that was all as he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked on his heels.

Vash appeared at the top of the stairs in his gray suit with a dark green vest underneath and a matching green tie around his neck.  His white fedora was perched on his head and he had one gun in an underarm holster and another on his ankle under his slacks, "Let's go."

Ludwig looked between them and decided he really didn't want to know. For a second he'd actually hoped that Gilbert had a date but if Vash was going with him that was unlikely. With a sigh, he just shook his head. "Good luck," he said vaguely, figuring that they all needed it every day currently.

Nodding once to Ludwig, Vash started for the front door, "You too."

Watching them go, Ludwig just shook his head.

They pulled up outside a relatively nice restaurant at exactly seven o'clock, Vash getting out of the car and pocketing his keys.

"Classy," Gilbert remarked. He'd stopped by Roderich's room before walking downstairs, turning around for him to show off the fact he could well dress himself and still he felt like he might not pass muster. "In a really fucking pretentious way."

"Roderich would call it 'good taste'," Vash muttered, entering the restaurant and scanning for Adnan.

"Which is pretention," Gilbert said and spotted the other man, touching Vash's arm and pointing.

Vash sighed before nodding and heading over to the table where Sadiq was seated, "Evening, Mr. Adnan."

Sadiq's brows went up behind the smooth white face of his mask. "You're certainly not who I was..." he paused, stopping when Gilbert turned his chair around and straddled it, resting his elbows on the back. "Expecting. Why are you two here?" he asked, eyes narrowed at the albino.

"We were asked to come and deliver Roderich's regrets that he couldn't join you for your scheduled meeting," Vash answered, finally sitting.

"He got himself shot," Gilbert said bluntly.

"Because he was stupid enough to go to a meet on his own," Vash supplied.  "He won't be leaving the House for a good long while."

Sadiq blinked once and he hummed. "Well, if that's the case," he said and started to rise.

"Not a fan of us?" Gilbert asked with a smirk and Sadiq considered him for a long moment.

Vash looked the larger man over before offering a grudging, "Thank you for helping Lili yesterday."

Sadiq blinked again and smiled slowly. "You're not about to try and shoot me are you?"

"She was happy when she came home, so no," Vash answered with a half shrug.  "Though I do wonder why you decided to take Roderich on a date."

"Probably because he accepted," Sadiq said, tone mild and Gilbert huffed.

Vash considered that before rising, "Why ask in the first place?"

Sadiq shrugged. "Because unlike any of you, he has taste."

"Oi," Gilbert protested, thinking his current outfit at least gave him a bid at having some taste.

"Anyway," Sadiq said, rolling his eyes. "The point is, the entire point of asking someone on a date is to get to know them better. As I have no interest in either of you..."

"Any messages you want sent to him?"  Vash asked, watching Sadiq carefully.

"Through you?" Sadiq laughed. "God no."

Vash held up Roderich's phone before returning it to his pocket, "Through me or not at all."

Rising, Sadiq shook his head. "I'll get in touch, later. At the moment? I can be patient."

Vash arched an eyebrow, but nodded, "I'll pass that along."

"Good night," Gilbert waved, ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from waiters.

"Come on, Gilbert," Vash said, glancing at the albino.  "We've done what we came here to do."

Gilbert nodded, rising and giving a cheeky smile before frowning when his phone buzzed. "Oh shit," he muttered. "Otho's holding a meeting down at the restaurant. Apparently it's late notice and we're not there, _shit_."

"Son of a bitch," Vash growled as he left the restaurant.  "We can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Great, that's fifteen minutes too late," Gilbert said, shaking his head. "Drive really fast yeah?"

"That would be how we're getting there in fifteen minutes," Vash replied, starting the car and speeding off, letting the car drift the corners. Gilbert propped his elbow against the door and swore most of the way there.

They skidded to a stop outside the restaurant, Vash out of the car moments later. Gilbert was moving even faster than him, all but bolting through the restaurant, waving to the main waiter who blinked in shock at him before recognizing the man in the blue suit. Skidding to a stop in front of the door, he tried smoothing down his hair again before pushing the door open.

Vash was about three paces behind him, taking his normal place without a word.

Gilbert skidded all the way down the long table until he came to a stop next to Ludwig. "When was this announced?" he hissed as he sat down, Otho thankfully still deep in conversation with the person sitting on the other side of him.

"Twenty minutes ago," Ludwig muttered. "You went pretty far away."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Gilbert said and Otho turned first toward Vash and then his eldest grandson.

"Glad you could join us," he drawled and Gilbert's smile was strained.

Vash inclined his head to the Head of the House, before glancing to the person on his right and murmuring for a recap of anything that had taken place in the time they'd missed.

The meeting ebbed and flowed after that, Otho giving the family their different orders and collecting news, Gilbert sitting as still as he could, suit slightly more rumpled than earlier but still far, far above what he usually wore.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, Vash was ready to go and tolerate Roderich for a few hours rather than listen to one more assignment or discussion of responses regarding the message left by the fact that Roderich had been dropped on their doorstep.  He was going out of his mind listening to ideas that were likely to end up with more people dead than not.

When the meeting was finally over, and Otho had dismissed most of the family members, Ludwig looked over at his brother. "Will you be alright tonight?" he asked.

Gilbert huffed. "I'm always fine. Totally awesome. Why, you going somewhere?"

Ludwig's cheeks colored, and he snuck a look at Otho before retreating quickly, leaving only a few still in the backroom.

Vash was leaning against the wall outside the meeting room.  His eyebrows rose, "Ludwig?  Somewhere to be?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ludwig said quickly, the meeting having gone later than he expected. He quickly kept going, leaving only Otho and Gilbert in the main room. Gilbert rose, intending to leave and see if anyone was still at the bar.

"I'd like you to walk with me," Otho said instead and Gilbert paused, hands on the back of his chair.

"I'll get Vash," he started and Otho shook his head.

Gilbert's hand tightened against the back of the chair as his grandfather spoke. "No, I'd like it just to be the two of us. You're more than enough protection, wouldn't you think."

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert nodded tightly. "Whatever you want." He pushed the door open, glancing over at Vash.

Vash straightened when he saw them, ready to drive them, "Are you all set to go, then," he glanced at Otho, "Sir?"

"We'll walk home tonight," Otho said, Gilbert obviously on edge as his grandfather rested a hand against his lower back. "There's no need for your services. Go home."

"You're...sure?" Vash clarified, "What with the shooting last night, and everything, sir."

"Don't you think Gilbert could protect me?" Otho asked and Gilbert twitched.

Vash's gaze darted to Gilbert, "I think Gilbert more than capable, sir.  If that is your wish, I shall see you at the house."

Otho inclined his head and turned to go as Gilbert looked at Vash for an extra moment before following.

Vash watched them go, considering following but deciding that Gilbert was capable as he'd said and instead returned to the house.

"So what is this really about?" Gilbert asked once they had gone several yards and Otho glanced down at him. Their frames were the same though Otho stood several inches higher.

"You're my grandson, are you not?" Otho asked.

"Don't..." Gilbert snapped and shook his head. "Don't act like you're playing a game with me. You want something, you want to talk about something or do something. What is it?"

For a while they walked in silence, Gilbert's shoulders stiff. "You've always been a loose cannon," Otho said and the fear that had been threatening Gilbert constricted in his throat.

"I've always been loyal," Gilbert replied, hoping that Otho had never realized that Gilbert had never been loyal to him or the family, but to Ludwig, since the seven-year-old child had looked up at him instead of paying attention to his lessons.

"But will you continue to be loyal?" Otho asked.

"What?" Gilbert's eyes snapped over and they stopped walking, standing facing each other under a street lamp.

"After all, your brother will be my heir, not you," Otho said and Gilbert almost cackled at that, the fear Otho had that he might try to usurp Ludwig when really it had always been him he was loyal to. "I'd hate for there to be a civil war after my death."

Taking a step back, Gilbert swallowed back down the laugh. "I'd never fight Ludwig," he said, which was entirely the truth. He just wasn't sure whether he was being warned or if Otho was planning to kill him so that his promise would never be tested.

Before he would find out one way or another a shot rang out, going through Otho's ribs and dropping him to the ground. Moving before he even processed it, Gilbert yanked his revolver out, whirling from where the shot had come behind him and was smashed in the stomach by a pipe.

Doubling over, he staggered back, realizing even before he saw the ends of the scarf who would dare attack them on their own territory. He tried to get his gun back up and the pipe swung low, pulling his ankle out from underneath him. His shot went wild up into the sky and he thought the next blow of the pipe broke his leg. He blinked fuzzily up at the purple eyes that were peering down at him. "Son of a bitch," he rasped and the face smiled.

"Hush," Ivan said, several more blows falling and Gilbert passed out. For a moment Ivan stared down at him, unsure why he'd used the pipe after having already shot Otho, or why the albino was still breathing as Winter stepped abreast with him. "We'll take him home," he said and Winter's eyes slid over sideways.

"If you so desire," he agreed and Ivan stepped forward to where Otho was still rasping for breath.

"You're still alive?" he asked and Otho just laughed at the sky.

"It would be you," he said and Ivan frowned. "I suppose there wasn't much chance of me outliving Vargas for all that long anyway." He laughed again. "The old order goes together it seems."

"It seems," Ivan agreed and pulled his gun out again to shoot him between the eyes before turning back to Winter, who'd already picked up the limp form of Gilbert.

"We should go," his bodyguard said, voice low like the winter wind and Ivan nodded, slipping back into the darkness.

o-o-o

Feliciano checked his phone to find he still had no calls or texts from Ludwig, even though they had agreed to meet almost a quarter of an hour before.  He hadn't thought the German heir was one to be late for anything and was starting to question whether he should just return to the house.  He wrapped his arms around himself and resolved that he would wait another fifteen minutes at the agreed upon spot at the main park entrance and then he would leave and send Ludwig a text or something to let him know.  Hoping it wouldn't come to that, the young Italian leaned against the column that stood to the left of the park archway and watched the road for any sign of life, startling every time he heard leaves rustle in the park.

Moments later Ludwig came skidding around the corner, sliding to a complete stop and smoothing down his hair before taking the last few steps toward the other who was waiting. "I am sorry to keep you waiting," he managed, and it became apparent when he spoke he was still somewhat out of breath. "I'm glad you're still here though."

He earned a bright smile on his arrival, Feliciano stepping over to meet him, "I figured something came up.  I'm glad you made it."

"I would have texted," he said. "Except I was already late and didn't want to stop long enough." Unlike Gilbert, he had never mastered moving and typing out messages. Of course, Gilbert never stopped moving and he generally remained still.

"Well, you're here now and that's what matters," Feliciano assured him.  "How much time do you have?"

"I don't think I'll be expected or needed again tonight," Ludwig said and checked his watch. "Though it is late already. However," he paused and continued. "However long you would like."

"I'll need to be home before midnight," Feliciano said, figuring his brother would need to be dragged away from whatever he was doing by then.

"Alright," Ludwig nodded. "Have you eaten? Or, I'm sure you have, it's rather late but..."

"But we could get dessert or something like that," the smaller man offered.  "There's a place near here that serves good dessert even this late."

"If you would like," Ludwig said, unsure why he couldn't seem to sound intelligent around the smaller man. "I mean, wherever you would like to go."

That garnered a lilting laugh, "Then let's go there.  How did you find my number?  I was surprised you called."

"Oh, um," Ludwig started and actually blushed. "It's a sorry story really. I, uh, may have borrowed my brother's phone and called Antonio. He seemed happy for something to distract him."

Feliciano offered him a smile at that as they started for the restaurant he had mentioned, "I think that's sweet that you'd go to that trouble.  And Antonio's, well, bored right now."

"He seemed on edge," Ludwig agreed, certain he didn't want to know why. "I should hint to Gilbert to call him or something later." He paused and glanced down at Feliciano, smiling at him. "But more, thank you for agreeing to come."

"He might like that," Feliciano agreed, glancing up at the blond.  "Did you think I'd say no?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know you that well. I had only hoped you would."

"Well, now we can get to know each other, right?" Feliciano asked, looping his arm through Ludwig's before he thought about it, though there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him that wasn't the right thing to do—it sounded an awful lot like Lovino.

Ludwig blinked in surprise, almost startling away violently but controlling his reaction. "A-alright."

"Did you finish Kant?"  Feliciano looked up at him, eyes bright under the streetlights.

Ludwig smiled faintly and shook his head. "There hasn't been time, I'm sorry to say."

They reached the little restaurant and Feliciano pushed the door open, "Do you think you'll get more time soon?"

"I don't know," he said, tone sad, considering the state the house was in. The fear of Russian reprisal hung heavy in the air, especially since Roderich had been shot. He really should not have been out by himself for that matter.

Feliciano pulled him over to a booth, offering the waitress on duty a wave as they sat down, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ludwig asked, snapping out of his thoughts about the Russians.

"That you're not sure you'll be able to take some time for yourself," Feliciano answered simply.  "And for whatever's worrying you."

"I'm taking time for myself now," Ludwig pointed out, not willing to explain what was bothering him.

That earned another smile as the waitress came over and set two menus down for them, asking if she could get anything for them to drink.  Feliciano shook his head, half hoping she would leave quickly and then feeling guilty for that, "Just water for me, please."

"Water," Ludwig agreed, not wanting to order beer no matter how much he wanted it to calm his nerves. "Thank you," he added.

Feliciano watched her go before turning back to Ludwig, "It's your turn to ask questions.  I'm trying to learn not to talk too much, Lovino says I do talk too much, though.  I am trying."

"Why would you learn not to talk too much?" Ludwig asked. "It's..." he wanted to say adorable and didn't manage it.

"It's, well, like I said, Lovino says I talk too much.  I shouldn't talk this much, it means that other people don't get much chance at it, and I don't usually register cues that people want me to stop.  So if I do start talking too much you'll probably have to actually tell me that I am."  He paused, considering, "or answer your phone.  Lovi said he'd make sure I figured that one out if it was the last thing he did.  Though he's not really one to talk.  He can chatter as much as I do, he just doesn't usually."

"And Lovino is your brother?" Ludwig asked. "The one that was there the other night?" He paused again for a moment. "I don't talk that much so I think it should work out."

Feliciano nodded, "That's Lovino.  He was more stand-offish than usual when you saw him, though not by much."

"Did anything happen in specific?" Ludwig asked. "To make him more standoffish?"

"Not really.  It's been a difficult month and a half for him," Feliciano murmured.  The change in power had made Lovino jumpy and the loss of their grandfather had left Feliciano feeling empty enough that he didn't much want to deal with why his brother was having difficulty besides for Antonio—which would hopefully work out soon.

Ludwig paused, hesitating for what felt like an awkward moment before he reached out a hand to rest it on Feliciano's. The other had initiated touching so he hoped it would be alright. "You lost your grandfather recently, didn't you?"

Feliciano looked down at their hands, turning his over so they were palm to palm, as he nodded, "Five and a half, almost six weeks ago now.  Alfonso said it was quick, that he wasn't in pain for very long.  But I don't know how much of that was true."

Ludwig twitched slightly at the more intimate touch but didn't draw back. "And Alfonso is... Antonio's brother?"

"Our medic," Feliciano answered without specifying that he was right about the relation.

Ludwig nodded, not pressing the issue. "Have you had time for your art lately?"

"Some.  I always find a few minutes here and there to sketch or something, but the last few days have made it harder.  I got some painting done today, though," Feliciano admitted.

"What did you paint?" Ludwig asked. "If you don't mind me asking of course."

"I started on a portrait of Antonio.  I'm not entirely sure how it's going to turn out, but I hope it will do what I want it to," Feliciano answered.  "It's going to be the third in a set, though the other two aren't going to be hung."

"What are the other two?" Ludwig asked and blushed slightly. "You only have to answer if you want to."

"One's of Lovino, I would like to hang that one, but he won't let me.  The other, well, the other's of Grandpa Vargas, but I _can't_ hang that one," Feliciano sighed.  "I understand why, but I still wish I could."

Ludwig considered. "Because of Antonio becoming the new Head?"

The younger man nodded, "Yes.  He became Head too recently.  He needs support, not paintings of the former Head."

"Maybe later?" Ludwig offered. "Respecting that which came before you is important too. In several years."

"Maybe so.  I've got it hidden away either way.  So I'll finish the one of Antonio and see if I can hang that one up at least.  It will be nice to have one of my paintings on the wall," Feliciano said with a slight shrug.

"Why can't you hang the one of your brother?" Ludwig asked. "There shouldn't be anything wrong with that one, would there be?"

"Lovino would kick my ass, as Alfonso says," came the response with a wry smile.

"Why?" Ludwig asked with a frown. "Wait, is he your older or younger brother?"

"Older by twenty minutes.  He, he doesn't like what he thinks the painting says about him."

Ludwig nodded, understanding older brother at least through long practice. "What does it say about him? Or what does he think it says about him?"

"He thinks it means that he's stuck in shadows and doesn't belong anywhere else.  That he's designed for violence and the other things that happen in the dark.  But, but that's not what I meant with it at all," Feliciano protested.  "He just, he's not willing to hear me explain what it did mean."

"Then what did you mean?" Ludwig asked, the space between his shoulders tensing.

"That, that he's protective.  That he'll do things that aren't, aren't everyone's first choice for the people he cares about.  That he's someone who will put aside what he wants for what he needs to do.  And that he's as much our grandfather's grandson as I am, even if he didn't always feel like it."

Ludwig smiled and gently squeezed Feliciano's hand. "That sounds quite beautiful. I-I'd love to see what you could come up with for Gilbert."

That earned an almost shy smile, "I'd have to get to know him before I could do him any sort of justice.  I haven't been around him long enough to even get vague feelings about what I'd paint."

"Well," Ludwig smiled faintly. "People tend to resent being around my brother for any length of time. But if you're that invested I'm sure it would be something to behold."

"Probably.  I think I'd rather paint you, though," Feliciano admitted, looking up as the waitress came back.  He glanced at Ludwig to check that it was alright as he ordered a slice of pie for each of them.

Ludwig had gone almost completely red but he didn't protest the pie at all, nodding slightly at the order. The waitress offered them a smile and headed to fetch that for them.  Feliciano turned back to Ludwig and felt his own cheeks color, "I shouldn't have said that out loud, should I?"

"It," he managed, sure his face was still entirely red. "I mean, that's very... very kind. Just nothing I suspected."

"May I then?  Paint you, I mean."

"If you want," Ludwig said, still blushing. "If you have the time."

Feliciano smiled at that, "It might take me a while, but I'll find the time eventually."

"Are you sure though?" Ludwig asked. "You said you have to know someone to paint them, or you implied it."

"Well, yes, I do to some extent, but sometimes I go with feelings I get.  It's...it's more difficult if it's not someone I've known for a long time, but sometimes I can do it.  It's the face that usually gives the most difficulty, but I have a sketch," his eyes widened and he blushed when he realized he said that.

"You have a sketch?" Ludwig asked, wondering when he'd ever felt so off balance. "When did you get the sketch?"

His blush deepened, "The meet between Antonio and your grandfather.  It's one of the reasons Lovi was so snarly."

"You were..." he paused, "You were drawing still life I thought?"

"I started drawing the still life after the seventh time Lovino kicked me and sent my pencil skittering for sketching you."

Ludwig stared at him, and barely managed not to surge forward to kiss the man in front of him who was still almost a stranger. The urge felt strange, wrong in his chest but he still barely managed to keep from moving. "Could I see it?" he said instead.

Feliciano bit his lower lip and dug out his sketchbook that he always carried, flipping through it back to the beginning of the book and offering it to Ludwig to show him the sketch.

Ludwig stared at it before his eyes snapped back up and that urge rose in his chest again, scaring him for how much he wanted to kiss someone he barely knew. "It's," he said and cleared his throat.

"It's just rough.  I was a bit distracted, but with some smoothing of the lines especially around the jaw it should work for a basic start to give me some idea of how to get the painting right."  He murmured a thank you as the waitress set their pie down and left again.

Ludwig cleared his throat again, setting the sketchbook down carefully and trying to focus on the pie. "I'm not sure anyone's drawn me before."

"Really?  I'm surprised," the younger admitted.  "I mean, you've got a wonderful profile, and a strong jaw and really more people should consider it, simply because you make such a good subject."

Ludwig suddenly blushed again. "If... if you say so. I wouldn't know. My grandfather had never been terribly fond of art."

"It was mine's passion," he smiled faintly, "or one of them.  He liked music too, but he's the one who taught me.  He gave me my first sketchbook and paint set."

"That," he paused, remembering the gun his own grandfather had given him when he was young, the way he'd grown up watching Gilbert. "That seems kind enough of him.

"He tried to teach me other things, I just never took to them as well," Feliciano sighed.

"Like," Ludwig started, unsure he wanted to really ask. "Family business?"

"Like that.  Lovino's the one who's better suited to that.  Always was."

"It's the only thing anyone ever offered to teach me," Ludwig said and wished he'd restrained those words.

Feliciano looked at him for a long moment, "No one offered to teach anything else?"

"What else would they teach me?" Ludwig asked with a strained smile. "All that matters is the Family, isn't it?" In his pocket, his phone buzzed and he frowned, ignoring it.

"You can't live your whole life just for the Family.  It will burn you out," Feliciano responded, glancing toward where he heard the phone buzzing.

Eating a bite of the pie, Ludwig suppressed a sigh. "It's not like I'm good at much else."

"I don't believe that.  Maybe you just haven't had the chance."

"Maybe not," Ludwig agreed and his phone went off again.

"Should, should you answer that?"

"I'd rather not interrupt this," Ludwig said, but considering everything he pulled the phone out with a sigh, freezing as he looked at the text messages. His eyes went wide and he stopped breathing.

Feliciano paused, looking him over and feeling something in his own chest clench, "Ludwig?  Ludwig, what is it?"

Ludwig just handed him the phone, the first message from Vash saying that Otho was dead and they could not find Gilbert—or his body. The rest were demands that Ludwig call him. "I need to go," he got past his throat.

Feliciano stared at the screen, trying to get his mind around what he was reading as he nodded and returned the phone, "Yes, yes you need...you're needed.  Go.  They need you, and you need to be there."

Taking the phone back, Ludwig's thoughts were panicked. It must have been the Russians but if they left Otho's body as a message, _where was his brother?_ He paused, finger hovering over the button to call Vash. Instead, he leaned over, pressing his mouth clumsily against Feliciano's, having never thought to kiss someone before.

Feliciano startled at that, returning the kiss automatically before he pulled back and pushed on Ludwig's chest, "Go.  They'll be worried that something's happened to you too."  He smoothed a lock of Ludwig's hair back into place before he thought about it and he kissed him again very lightly and briefly, "Go."

"I'd like to come back," Ludwig said, as the fumbled kiss symbolically had been his last act before he had to accept Otho's mantle. But he leaned back, dialing the call through to Vash and, with another look at the Italian, he was sweeping toward the door.

Feliciano watched him go, leaning back in the booth and curling his arms around himself.  It was several minutes before he was able to move enough to gather his sketchbook and leave the money for their desserts.  It seemed such a mundane action and it grated on him as he thought about Ludwig's face when he'd seen those texts and the way everything was going to come crumbling down in the German House if something didn't slot into place quickly.  He slipped out of the restaurant and hurried back to the Roman House, intending to lock himself away as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Ivan. Let's watch everything go to hell.


	6. I'd Like to Worship You

Entering the house and heading for his room, Feliciano paused when he saw light under Antonio's door but heard no indication that anyone was actually in there.  He checked Lovino's room and found it empty before he retreated down to the basement.  Listening carefully, he found the right room and opened the door.  His eyes skittered over Rodriguez who was sporting a broken nose and cheekbone in addition to the bruises and small cuts that littered the rest of his visible skin, "Lovino."

Lovino pulled off the brass knuckles and set them aside before wiping his hands on a towel that was more red than its original white and green, "What do you want, Feliciano?"

"You've been down here for hours, it's time to come upstairs, Fratello."

Looking ready to argue, Lovino finally nodded and hauled Rodriguez to his feet and locked him in the next room, "I was working.  You know better than to enter during that."

"I don't care," Feliciano snapped, startling his brother.  "You have been at this for too long.  You are going to clean up and report to Antonio."

"What makes you think I have anything to report?"  Lovino muttered, pulling his stained shirt off as they walked.

"Because you've been down here for hours."

"That doesn't always mean anything."

"Because you're going to tell, to tell him that, that Otho Beilschmidt is dead," Feliciano's voice had softened, unsure he should be sharing that before the intelligence branch knew it.

Lovino shot his brother a look, "You're sure?"

"Y-yes.  Go, go clean up and report to Antonio." Before his brother could protest, Feliciano sped up and disappeared into his room, locking the door.

Standing in the hall, Lovino swore and went to shower.  He emerged a short time later and pulled on some casual clothes before raking a brush through his damp hair.  Heading to Antonio's room he tried to smooth his hair down, but the rapid brushing had caused the ends to curl.  He knocked, hoping Antonio was already asleep.

"Come in," Antonio called, dashing whatever hope there was of that. He lay on his side, staring at the wall with his arm underneath his pillow.  Lovino drew a deep breath and entered, closing the door behind him, but didn't move away from it or say anything, just watching Antonio instead.

For a long moment Antonio didn't react except sighing at the wall before glancing back over at Lovino. He wasn't entirely sure but it felt like when he looked at Lovino it was almost disappointing that he still wanted him as much as he ever did, even more so. "I should have really made you add when you were coming back to that promise, shouldn't I have?"

"Probably.  I offered, you just didn't take me up on it," Lovino answered, still not moving.  "How long have you been moping at the wall?"

Antonio smiled, trying to play off exactly how long he'd been staring at the wall. "I was bored. And I suppose I'd just hoped," he stopped, not finishing his sentence.

"Hoped what?  I said I'd come back."

"It's almost midnight," Antonio pointed out, pushing himself up to sit and shifting back. "It's like you were hoping I'd already be asleep by the time you decided to make your way here."

Lovino tried and failed to meet his eyes at that, "I wasn't."

"Really," Antonio deadpanned back, not even making it a question.

That earned him a scowl, "Really."

"Lovino," Antonio said quietly. "Can you at least not start running until I have the possibility of catching you?"

"You've got longer legs, I have to get a head start somehow," Lovino muttered, but nodded almost imperceptibly.

Any other time that would have made Antonio laugh, but it only made him look sadder now. "Why did you come back now?" he asked.

"I was done for the night and I ran into Feli on my way up.  There...there's some information you should probably know," he glanced toward the door and then finally moved away from it, hesitating before he sat down on the edge of Antonio's bed.

"Information," Antonio repeated and sighed. "Alright, what was it?"

Lovino had the urge to say that he'd wanted to see Antonio because it was Antonio, but he bit that back, not sure how comfortable he was with the fact that it might be true.  "He says Otho's been killed."

Instantly snapping out his lethargy, Antonio's head whipped over to him. "What? When? Who did it?"

"He didn't say.  Just that Otho's been killed," Lovino answered with a slight shake of his head.  "I doubt we'll hear anything more until the morning, I'm pretty sure his door was locked when I went by."

Antonio opened his mouth to ask how on earth Feliciano knew and remembered Ludwig's call earlier that day. "Huh," he managed, looking down at his hands.

Lovino glanced at him at that, "What do you mean 'huh'?"

"Just thinking about how Feliciano would know something like that," Antonio said, not meeting his eyes.

"He didn't mention.  Do you know how?" Lovino's eyes narrowed very slightly.

"Just a theory," he said, waving it off with a false smile.

Lovino didn't look like he entirely believed that, but he let it go and simply pulled his knees up to his chest where he was sitting on the bed, "Do you know when you'll be on your feet again?"

"I should be able to start hobbling around soon," Antonio shrugged. "Running's out for a while though." He paused, looking over at the other and trying not to sigh again. Hesitating, he reached a hand out to touch where Lovino's hair was curling. "You took a shower."

He nodded, tilting his head into the touch very slightly, "Figured I should do that before coming in here."

"What have you been doing?" Antonio asked, touch growing firmer as he moved his hand through Lovino's hair.

"Making sure we weren't still being lied to about what happened to you," came the answer as he closed his eyes and focused on the touch.

"And what did you find out?" Antonio asked. "That took you so long?"

"His thirty pieces of silver was protection and a place in the ranks of the gang that was prepared to take our place if we tore ourselves apart in the wake of your death," Lovino replied, pausing before drawing his head away from Antonio's touch and shifting so he was curled against the other man's side.

"We should talk," Antonio said, moving his arm around Lovino's waist. "I'd much rather kiss you again instead though."

"I don't want to talk," Lovino replied, tilting his head back to look up at Antonio.  He didn't care if the topic was them or if it was further discussion of his particular avoidance techniques, he didn't want to discuss it at the moment.

"We should," Antonio murmured. "There's a lot to talk about."

"It's midnight, though," came the muted response before Lovino leaned up and kissed the other, hoping to cut off any chance of talking.

Turning into the kiss, Antonio tilted his head down, threading both hands through Lovino's hair. Lovino pressed up into the kiss, parting his lips and tracing the tip of his tongue over Antonio's, one of his hands moving to rest against the other man's chest.

Humming into the kiss, Antonio pulled him closer and paused, pulling back slightly. "Do you think either of us are capable of making this easier on the other?"

Lovino resisted the urge to growl, instead letting his head fall against Antonio's shoulder so he wouldn't have to look the other in the eye if they were actually having this conversation, "What do you mean?"

"I'm just wondering," Antonio said, still stroking his hair.

"How would we even do that?" he murmured, enjoying the touch but making sure to keep still rather than lean into it like some overgrown cat.

"We could be sensible people," Antonio said. "Talk about our feelings, work out plans for what to do." He laughed, leaning down to smooth his mouth over Lovino's temple. "We're not going to do that though, are we?"

Lovino snorted, "Sensible is not what I would call us.  So no."

"I figured not," Antonio said, tilting Lovino's chin back. "I'd rather drape you in gold and see how many times I could take you than talk anyway."

Hazel-green eyes widening, Lovino gaped at him and spoke before he thought about it, rattling off words in rapid enough succession that it was an obvious reminder of his relation to Feliciano, "I'm pretty sure a normal response to that is to run.  But we've already determined we're not normal, but that doesn't quite change the fact that it's a tempting idea.  I probably ought to.  Run I mean.  But that...Like I said we're not normal.  I'm not letting you drape me in gold, though."

Antonio blinked and then grinned. "You'd look so good in it," he murmured, kissing the shell of Lovino's ear.

Lovino shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed, "It would get in the way."

"Would it?" Antonio asked.

"Probably," he murmured in response.

Antonio hummed, lifting up Lovino's wrists. "It could go here," he murmured, tracing one finger up his arm and circling his bicep. "Or here. That would hardly be in the way."

Lovino's breath caught at that touch, and he tried to get his mind to compute, "You want me to wear gold bracelets?"

Something flickered in Antonio's eyes and he smiled. "Maybe." His hand drifted up, fingers brushing along Lovino's neck. "Or here. A solid gold collar. Frankly, the only reason I could think of it getting in the way was if I figured out how to make a gold chastity belt—which I certainly have no intention of doing."

Lovino pulled back, pushing himself almost into a sitting position to get some room between them, "No collars."

Antonio's eyebrows went up, suppressing his initial reaction to express how unbelievably attractive gold would look there. "Necklace?" he offered instead. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Maybe a necklace," Lovino allowed.  "A collar's a mark of ownership, idiot."

"Only if I considered you something to own," Antonio replied, running fingers through his hair again.

Lovino tilted his head back from the touch, locking eyes with Antonio, "No.  Collars."

"No collars," Antonio agreed with a small frown. "Lovino, you know I wouldn't do things you didn't want, right?"

The younger man nodded very slightly, and made sure to keep Antonio's gaze as he responded, "Of course I do."

"I'm serious," Antonio said, no laugh in his eyes.

"I know you wouldn't," he responded, watching the other man.  He just wasn't entirely sure he understood Antonio's motives for that: whether it was to make sure Lovino didn't leave because of that or if it was truly because he wanted Lovino happy or comfortable.

"Lovino, what is it?" Antonio asked, feeling like they'd fallen into talk by accident.

"It's nothing, Antonio, really."

"Be honest," he requested instead. "Please."

"I don't understand you," Lovino muttered, looking away.

"What are you missing?" Antonio asked, leaning forward and keeping his fingers tangled up in Lovino's hair.

"Why.  Why you care.  Why you want to drape me in gold.  Why, why any of this."

Antonio frowned and paused a long moment. "Because I love you," he said. "Because you're beautiful. Partly because I'd like to worship you too."

Lovino looked ready to bolt at that and he shook his head, "You're out of your damn mind.  You know that, right?"

Jerking forward, Antonio kissed him again, cupping his cheeks. "For a very long time, yeah."

Startling, Lovino tensed and brought his hand up to Antonio's chest with the intention of pushing him away, but the moment it touched the other man's shirt he coiled his fingers in the fabric and pulled Antonio closer instead, "As long as you're aware of it."  He pressed back into the kiss, trying to relax.

Pushing Lovino's mouth open, Antonio dragged his hands down his back, scrapping his nails on his spine. Lovino moaned softly at that, arching against Antonio, the hand not tangled in the other's shirt moving to card through his dark hair.

Moving back to his ear and kissing it again, Antonio smiled faintly. "I'd put gold here too."

"My ear?"  Lovino sounded uncertain about that.

"Next to your hair?" Antonio asked and nodded. "God yes. There are cuffs."

"Just how much gold are you talking about putting on me," Lovino asked, trailing nipping kisses down Antonio's throat.

"There are anklets too," Antonio said, swirling his tongue along the shell of Lovino's ear before biting the lobe and leaned back.

Pupils blown wide, and his face flushed, Lovino rested his hands against Antonio's shoulders for balance, "How often are you expecting me to wear all of this?"

"That's negotiable," Antonio laughed, dipping his fingers below Lovino's waistband and just stroking.

Lovino gasped and leaned in, capturing Antonio's mouth in a desperate kiss and pressing against his hand at the same time.

"I love you," Antonio said, trying to see if he could say it enough times that Lovino would start to believe him. Rather than deal with having to answer, Lovino simply nodded, kissing Antonio again and turning his attention to divesting the older man of his shirt.

Shouldering out of the garment, Antonio tossed it to the side. "If you spend tonight, are you going to run off first thing in the morning again?"

Lovino hesitated before he answered, "I won't run off in the morning."

"At least come back and have lunch with me," Antonio said, almost pouting.

"I will," Lovino promised, tracing a hand over Antonio's bare chest.

"Thank you," Antonio said, tracing through his hair again before licking into his mouth.

Lovino broke the kiss only long enough to pull off his own shirt before returning to it and pressing himself against Antonio, skin to skin. Antonio groaned, hands moving everywhere, still unable to believe he could touch what he'd looked at for so long. He'd never put the crucifix back on--it still lay on the nightstand.

o-o-o

Ludwig burst into the house which was in an uproar, Elizaveta turning from where she was about to head out to see if they couldn't find him. "There you are!" she said as he shrugged out of his long black coat, too warm now he was inside. "Where _were_ you?"

"Out," he managed.

The backdoor could be heard closing and Vash appeared a few minutes later, snarling as he hung up his phone from yet another call from one of the groups he had sent out in search of Gilbert that had turned up nothing.  He caught sight of Ludwig and crossed the foyer to him, "There you are!  Did you forget that your phone is essential for us to be able to reach you which means you need to _answer the damn thing_?"

"I answered it," Ludwig protested, not wanting to say why he didn't want to answer it. "I'm here now. What's _happened_?"

"We still don't know.  Otho was shot, twice, and we've brought his body back.  I've got people out looking for any signs of Gilbert—it was too dark where we found Otho to see if there was anything defining at that time but I've got another three out with lights who are checking for any indication.  We're working under the belief that it was Braginski, but we've no proof of that yet," Vash responded swiftly.

Ludwig's fists clenched. "And Ot—Grandfather," he corrected, for it would not do well to display a lack of affection for the dead, no matter how cold relations were during life. "Is dead? There's no chance it's not him or that he might still be breathing?"

"He was shot between the eyes," Elizaveta murmured and Ludwig swallowed hard.

"I identified him myself, and Elizaveta confirmed it," Vash answered, trying for gentle and falling closer to impassive.

Ludwig nodded, not trusting his voice for a moment. "Were he and Gilbert out alone?" he asked after a moment.

Vash nodded once, "Your grandfather had something he wished to talk to Gilbert about in private and sent me on ahead.  They were late getting home which was what alerted us."

Eyes widening, Ludwig stared at him for a long moment in shock. "You left them—" he started, an entirely different fear twisting in his gut and he took a deep breath. "Are you sure Gilbert was with him when he died?" he asked. "Or that Gilbert wasn't the one to kill him?"

Vash actually flinched at that, "We're working on the belief that he was with him at that time, as that's the most recent information we have.  We're not _sure_ of anything right now, but we're looking into that possibility too.  The most likely scenario is still the Russians at this time."

"Why would Gilbert do that?" Elizaveta snapped. "I mean, sometimes they're not—"

"He would if it was self-defense," Ludwig said. "Do you think we could check the ballistics?" He just wanted to prove it wasn't Gilbert, though he wondered, if it had been, why his brother hadn't come to him yet.

"I'll see about trying that," Vash promised.  "We'll figure out what's going on here, Ludwig, and we'll find Gilbert."

"Good," Ludwig said, swallowing again and swaying before he planted his feet more firmly on the ground. "Just... find him." More than anything he wanted his brother back at his shoulder.

Vash nodded once, pulling out his phone as another all came in from a reporting search party.  He glanced from Ludwig to Elizaveta before stepping away to take it, cursing at whoever was on the other end for still not finding anything—they were running out of places in German territory and they had no trace of a clue as to where the attackers would have gone from there.

Once Vash turned away, Elizaveta glanced down. "I'm sorry," she said.

"You've not done a thing," Ludwig said with a small shake of his head.

There was a soft tapping and Roderich's voice cut through, "What's happened?"  He was leaning heavily on a pair of crutches, having listened to the chaos outside his room for as long as he could stand, and looking several shades paler than was necessarily healthy.

Ludwig's head snapped over. "Roderich..."

"You're not supposed to be up!" Elizaveta said. "You're going to mess up your recovery, what are you doing?"

His hands tightened on the crutches and he grit his teeth, ignoring Elizaveta, "What.  Happened?"

"Otho's been shot," Ludwig said and realized that allowed for possible ambiguity. "He's dead. Gilbert is missing, we don't know why."

Roderich froze at that, his eyes widening, "Missing?  And...dead?  They were alone together?"

Ludwig nodded, glancing over at where Vash was talking on the phone. "Yes. There's..." he swallowed, almost swaying again before he got himself under control. "No evidence for what happened to him."

The intelligence officer glanced toward Vash and then back to Ludwig, frowning, "No evidence at all yet?"

Ludwig shook his head. "None."

Roderich leaned heavily on one crutch and swung the other one at Vash, causing the blond to startle and swear.  Vash whirled to glare at him, snarling in Italian at Roderich about him being out of bed. The brunet simply motioned for him to shut the phone which he did.  "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Trying to figure out why the hell I wasn't told."

"You're injured and supposed to be resting," Vash replied.

"That's not an option right now.  I need my phone back and I need to be able to help with this," Roderich replied sharply, earning a glare from Vash which he ignored until the other finally handed over his phone.  He glanced toward Ludwig, "We'll figure this out, you've got my word on that."

Ludwig nodded, eyes a bit dazed as he watched everyone running around. He was certain there were things he needed to be doing but all he wanted to do was sit down. Or curl up and think about Feliciano and his smile to keep from losing his entire mind.

Roderich pocketed his phone and then looked toward Ludwig, "We need to talk.  And I should head back to bed before I fall over.  Would you mind joining me in my room?  There's a chair there you can sit down in."

Ludwig nodded, more relieved than he wanted to let on. "I'll go out," Elizaveta said. "I'd feel better checking the scene myself."

"Just report," Ludwig said.

"Take a car," Vash said to Elizaveta, answering his phone again and stepping away toward the kitchen.

Roderich sighed, "I've got a few calls to make, my contacts should still be up, or just getting up in most areas."  He turned to hobble back to his room, pausing to make certain Ludwig was accompanying him.

Ludwig followed carefully on his heels, touching his elbow. "I'm hardly going to be able to stop you from working, but you shouldn't get up again."

"I needed my phone," he considered.  "I'll need my computer and my black journal as well, but the phone was most necessary."  Roderich glanced at the younger man, "I'll be sure to stay in my bed though.  I can work from there just as easily."

"Good," Ludwig said. "I can get you the other things if you really need it."

"I will.  The phone only does so much without any notes on who owes us what," Roderich responded, entering his room and limping over to the bed.

"Just sit," Ludwig said. "And... don't overwork yourself. You will get rest, won't you?"

Roderich paused, but nodded, "I just, we need to know what happened."  He settled onto the bed, setting the crutches aside and leaning against the headboard.

"You're worried about Gilbert," Ludwig said as he took the chair by Roderich’s bedside, understanding what others might not have.

"Of course I'm worried about Gilbert," he came close to snapping.  "If he's not here, then where the hell is he?"

"If he had killed Otho..." Ludwig said. "He'd be here. He wouldn't still be missing. And if he was killed by Otho, his body would have been left like his, I think. There would be no reason to dump his body separately. So, either Otho killed him before he was murdered, or for some reason whoever did it took Gilbert."

"Vash's teams would have found his body even if Otho had killed him.  Or they should have unless they're completely incompetent which they're not."  He rubbed his temple, "Which means we're not going to find him through those means."

"Do you have any contacts in the Russian House?" Ludwig asked. "Anyone who might be able to... check?"

Roderich paused and then shook his head, "No.  Every time I get someone anywhere close to the House, someone figures it out and offs them.  There's a chance I might be able to get through via a different route—but it's unlikely.  Our best chance will be to eliminate the possibility of it being the other Houses.  We can safely rule out the Roman House, I think but I'll run down the possibilities in the others."

"Thank you," Ludwig said, clenching his fists and wanting to scream about how long that would likely take. "Just... do what you have to."

"I wish we could do this faster, but our only route in is through Feliks, and he's disinclined to talk to us.  Ever."

Ludwig paused a beat. "We couldn't bribe him, could we?"

"We could try, but I've tried it in the past and usually ended up being sworn at in Polish.  I don't speak Polish and there was little doubt that was what he was doing," Roderich replied.  "I also can't call him at midnight."

Sighing, Ludwig ran his hand over his face and nodded. "Just... try. Anything he wants. Anything at all."

Roderich nodded, "I will.  He's usually up early enough in the morning that I'll be able to call in a few hours.  Until then I'll try my other contacts, see what they can tell me."

"Good," Ludwig said and clasped both his hands in front of him.

He glanced toward Ludwig, "You don't have to talk if you don't want to.  And I know what needs to be done.  But, is there anything I can do for _you_ while I'm working?"

"Just find my brother," he said softly. "As quickly as possible."

"You've my word on that," Roderich promised, pulling out his phone and running through his list of contacts.

"Thank you," Ludwig said and sighed again. "I should... leave you to it. Do try to rest."

"I will.  It's just a few phone calls."  He finally located the first contact, "If you could send my computer and notebook in here that would be helpful in this as well."

"Alright," Ludwig said and hauled himself to his feet.

"Ludwig, if you need somewhere to retreat, you're welcome to come here," Roderich offered, hitting the send button for the first number.

"Thank you," Ludwig said, wanting to curl up under as many blankets as he could find and just stop thinking.

The intelligence officer nodded, turning his attention to the phone call and starting to speak as soon as the other line was picked up, "I know it's early, but there are a few things I need you to let me know, you'll get your pay for it as always..."

o-o-o

Swimming up to awareness the first thing Gilbert registered was that he was in pain. He blinked up at the ceiling, taking in the far away patterns. "Fuck," he groaned, remembering Ivan appearing out of the night with his pipe. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, ow." Groaning, he tried to push himself up on his elbows and swore again.

"You, you won't want to move for a while yet," a quiet voice came from his left, Toris standing there looking ready to retreat.

Looking him over, Gilbert's eyes widened. "Fuck," he managed again and flopped back down.

"Careful," the brunet murmured, crossing over to Gilbert's side.  He held out a dose of medicine, "This will help with the pain, a bit at least."

Gilbert flopped his hand toward the other. "Great. That would be great. _Fuck_ I hurt. Who're you?"

Placing the dose in his hand, the other man helped him sit up enough to take the dose with a sip of water, "Toris.  And you're Gilbert, yes?"

"Yeah," he rasped, swallowing the medication without needing the water but he took the sip anyway. "Who else would I be? Please tell me that I'm not where I think I am though."

"Mr. Braginski brought you back with him when he and the General returned.  We've been trying to patch you up a bit, but it's, it's been difficult."

"I can't imagine," Gilbert said dryly. "Because can I say again? Fuck ow."

"The pills should help a bit, but I don't think we have anything quite strong enough to dull it all.  Usually we don't have to try when someone's quite so...battered," Toris admitted.

"Just let them die, huh?" Gilbert said, feeling his shoulders tense and fear curl along his spine.

Toris shifted slightly, "He doesn't usually want them alive unless he's planning to ask questions... and if that's the case pain doesn't matter so much."

Gilbert stopped breathing for a moment. "Fuck," he said again. "But you're not... you're not saying that's likely."

"You wouldn't be upstairs where we can give you medicine if it was," Toris answered.  "At least, at least as far as I've seen."

"So I'm still alive, and with medicine," Gilbert said. "Any indication for why the hell that's the case?"

"He's not really one for telling us much of anything.  I'm sorry."

"Great," Gilbert said, tone pitched higher than it should have been. "Well, you know, thanks for the medication."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours with more if I can get away.  If, if not Eduard will try.  Maybe Raivis, but we'll try not to, not to involve him," Toris managed.

"Sure," Gilbert said, and underneath the blankets he was trying to tense his different muscles, trying to create a catalog of what was injured. "That would be great, thank you."

"Your left leg's broken, and you've got at least one cracked rib.  The bruises are the worst, and some lacerations but they should all heal if, if given time."

Gilbert froze again. He hadn't been aware the other was watching him that closely, let alone the implications of his statement. "Right. Time."

Toris twisted his hands around, but nodded, "I need to go before I'm missed.  Don't try anything stupid, please."

"I'm sure he wouldn't do anything stupid," Ivan said from the doorway and Gilbert's entire shoulder line tensed.

Toris froze, turning toward Ivan slowly and reminding himself not to take a step back though he could feel himself trembling, "Of course not, sir."

"You wouldn't, would you?" Ivan asked with a vague smile at Gilbert.

"What?" Gilbert stared at him. "Oh. No, me, do anything stupid? Who do you think I am?"

Glancing at Gilbert with something akin to panic in his eyes, Toris made to leave but stopped after a handful of steps due to Ivan still being between him and the exit from the room.

Something flashed in Ivan's eyes and Gilbert frowned at where Toris was standing in confusion. Because he was watching the other man, Gilbert missed the expression on Ivan's face before another smile wiped it off. "I think you're someone that causes a lot of trouble."

Gilbert wanted to run, he wanted to thrash around and scream and he almost started shaking like Toris with the effort of keeping still.

"Are you enjoying your accommodations?" Ivan asked, tilting his head to the side as he kept smiling and Gilbert wanted to punch it off his face.

"It's a rather large room," Gilbert said, for though the German house had rooms that were bigger, the ceiling was further away than he liked.

Toris looked toward Ivan, keeping his gaze focused just under the Head of the House's chin, "Do, do you wish me to fetch anything for him, sir?"

"Do you need anything?" Ivan asked, looking over at Gilbert who returned the look, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Can't think of a thing," he deadpanned back and Ivan smiled.

"Are you quite certain?"

"If, if that's everything, s-sir?"  Toris asked quietly, sparing a glance for Gilbert and hoping he could leave.

Ivan glanced back over at him and nodded. "If you like and there's nothing more to be done."

"Nothing more here, no," Toris answered.  "I'll go see to my other responsibilities now."  He ducked in a slight bow and slipped past Ivan, never turning his back on the other man.

Watching him go, Gilbert frowned, wanting to say something about really inspiring one's underlings but kept his mouth shut, sucking his lips over his teeth. For a moment he and Ivan simply stared at each other.

"If you need anything, just call," Ivan said, pointing at where there was a small bell, something out of an Edwardian era.

"Why am I here?" Gilbert demanded, unable to keep himself quiet and Ivan just smiled before disappearing from the doorway. "Fuck," Gilbert said again to the door. "Fuck!"

Ivan stopped as soon as he was outside of the door, glancing at where Winter stood. "What is it, General?" he asked, using the old nickname. When he'd been young, Winter had looked so much like a general to him and even now he rarely called him anything else.

"You shouldn't have brought him back," Winter replied, expression still neutral. "He'll only cause problems."

"Maybe," Ivan said, not reacting. "But either way I expect you to watch him." He checked that the door was closed on Gilbert still swearing.

"Of course," Winter said and Ivan nodded, moving down the hallway.

Toris had retreated to the kitchens to start his work there, even as he mentally ran down ways to let the German House know that Gilbert was alive.  It was probably worth more than his life was if it was found out that he'd contacted the other House, and there was no way he could find around that. Scrubbing at the dishes, his hands shaking violently, he tried to ignore the feeling that someone ought to tell the Germans.

Poking his head around the corner before entering the room, Raivis glanced over his shoulder. "Are you cooking?"

Toris startled, nearly breaking a plate, "Washing dishes, and then I was going to cook."

"What were you planning on making?" Eduard asked, stepping in a few paces behind Raivis with a glance over his own shoulder.

"I'm not sure yet, I was going to finish this before I, before I decided."

"Can you make something good at least?" Raivis whined, not usually liking what Toris liked. He paused, considering. "Are we going to have to feed the German too?"

Toris sighed, keeping his focus on the soapy water, "Yes we're probably going to need to feed him too.  What do you want me to make, Raivis?"

"Cabbage soup," Raivis offered brightly. "But," he drooped slightly. "If we have to feed him, who's going to? Because he's loud and seems scary."

"He's got a broken leg, you just have to stay out of his reach," Eduard reminded.  "Toris?"

"I'm already dealing with his medicine."

Eduard sighed, "I'll take him his food in that case.  I don't understand why he's here, though."

"Best not to ask," Toris reminded, rinsing the last of the dishes and setting them on the rack to dry.

"Ugh," Raivis shook his head. "It's bad enough we're here, to suddenly have someone else show up. And it's just creepy for Ivan to kidnap him like this..."

"Raivis," Toris spoke warningly, shooting the younger man an alarmed look.

"He has a point," Eduard cut in with a nervous glance toward the doorway, picking up a dish towel to dry the dishes while Toris got to work on the meal.

Toris frowned at that, "That does not mean that it needs to be said aloud."

Raivis frowned. "It's true though," he muttered, handing Toris ingredients.

"And if Winter were to hear you?  Or Ivan himself?"  Toris responded, sharply, coring the cabbage and chopping it roughly.

Raivis muttered something about how it wasn't like they could do more to him than they already did, but he hunched his shoulders and looked at the doorway again.

"You're still breathing, aren't you?" Eduard responded to that muttered comment, returning the dishes to their proper places in the cupboards.

Raivis looked over at him in surprise. "But..." He looked at the doorway again. "I mean they're just words. It's not like I'm doing anything." Plus he couldn't seem to stop being honest no matter how hard he tried.

Toris dropped the knife, jumping back before it could land on his foot.  He gathered himself together again, picked the knife up and rinsed it off before returning to his work.  Eduard's gaze darted to him before returning to Raivis, "Words and thoughts can be a precursor to action.  It's best not to give them a reason to doubt you."

Raivis flushed and looked down. "I... I suppose. I'll try. But the German is still loud and scary!"

Eduard managed a faint smile at that, "Toris and I will take care of the German, you won't have to go near him."

"Alright," he said, shoulders slumping slightly. "That would be good. But... I mean, if I can be useful I'd like to be."

Toris found the onions and garlic he would need and pushed them and a knife toward Raivis, "You can start by helping me with the soup."

Sighing, the smaller man took the knife, chopping what was put in front of him.

o-o-o

Pushing the door to Arthur's house open, Francis glanced around. Poking his head around the parlor door, he grinned at where Liam had fallen asleep on the couch, a book on his chest. It was perhaps four in the morning—Francis never really carried a watch—so he had no idea how long Liam had been sleeping there.

Gently closing the door he stepped back, looking up the stairs.

Arthur paused at the top of the stairs.  He had been coming down to make himself tea, unable to sleep due to pain in his bad leg, and not wanting to sit up at his desk or in the library for the rest of the night.  Considering Francis with an arched eyebrow he continued his descent, leaning perhaps a bit more heavily on the bannister than he liked, "Where have you been?"

"Out," Francis replied with a grin. "Have you been working all night then, mon cher?"

"I can see you were 'out'," Arthur replied testily, walking past Francis and focusing on minimizing his limp.  "No, I have not been working all night. Nor have you, I bet.  Women or wine this time?"

"Or?" Francis chuckled, the sound low. "You think me so simple I could not do both?"

"My mistake, of course it was both," the Englishman muttered, pushing the kitchen door open with the hand not curled around the handle of his cane.  "Why else would you be out until this hour of the morning?"

"Ah, but the question is why are you still awake?" Francis said, following him and closing the kitchen door behind himself.

"I don't see that that's your concern," came the response as he set the kettle on to boil and went searching for the right tea.

"Perhaps not," Francis said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "But I did answer your questions."

Arthur offered him an unimpressed look at that, "Only in the most technical sense."

"Would you like to know her name then?" Francis asked. "Which vintage of wine? Which perfume she wears?"

"Which territory she's in," Arthur replied, finally locating his tea and preparing himself a cup of it.  "I couldn't sleep is all."

Francis paused. "You're so mercenary," he sighed. "Asking what territory. It's just sex not trade secrets. Why couldn't you sleep?"

"It's a matter of what risks you're taking for the sake of your affairs," Arthur returned, testily, wishing he could make the tea steep faster.  "I couldn't sleep, does there need to be a reason?"

"There usually is a reason someone can't sleep," Francis said, trailing his hand along Arthur's lower back. "And I don't take risks for affairs."

Arthur startled at that touch and whirled to face Francis, swearing as he twisted his bad leg in the process, "Damn it, don't do that."

Francis just smiled at him. "Of course not, my apologies."

That earned him a glare as Arthur picked up his tea cup and moved to settle at the kitchen table, "Sometimes an inability to sleep is just that, and there's no reason behind it."

"I kindly disagree," Francis shrugged, not moving from the counter.

Sipping at his tea, Arthur grimaced, "I suppose you've that right."

"But you're not going to tell me, are you?" Francis asked, tapping the fingers of one hand against his opposite elbow.

"Is there a reason I should?" He held back the urge to massage the muscles around the old scar on his right leg.

Francis shrugged. "Because I'm here? Because no one else is?"

Arthur considered the other man for a long moment, turning his attention to his tea before answering at all, "My leg has been giving trouble again."

Francis' eyes dropped to the leg in question. "It's an old wound, isn't it?" He didn't add that he knew it was from Antonio.

"Almost seven years now, yes," the other nodded, sipping at the tea that was working to dull the pain slightly.

Francis wondered when they had gotten so _old_ that Antonio could have shot this man seven years ago. "You could always try wine too."

"And give Cameron yet another alcohol to gripe about me drinking.  No, thank you."

"Ah, but wine is much better and more soothing than your beer or whiskey," Francis said, wrinkling his nose at the thought of the other drinks.

"I'll stick to tea for soothing," Arthur replied, leaning back in the chair.

Francis shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's your loss and more for me then."

Arthur rolled a shoulder at that, changing the subject, "Why didn't you stay all night with whoever it was whose bed you'd tumbled into?  Rather than come back here with hours yet to daylight."

Before he replied, Francis stretched, arms over his head and pulling up the edge of his shirt. "I don't sleep well in other beds," he said. "Besides, her father might have tried to attack me, and I bruise so easily."

Eyes following the stretch and pausing at the strip of skin that became visible, Arthur shook his head and turned back to his tea, "Do I want to know how old this one was?"

Francis' eyes narrowed. "What could you possibly be implying there, Arthur?"

"That she was probably too young for you if you were worried about her father and not her lover," Arthur replied easily.

Francis' laugh was strained. "Maybe some people just care more about family. It's not like we're the type to know." He paused, leaning his elbows back against the counter. "You sound almost jealous."

"Whatever would I have to be jealous about?" Arthur replied, offering Francis an appraising glance.

"With you? I'd never know," he shrugged.

"Have you done anything useful recently, or has all your time been spent falling from one bed to the next?"  Arthur asked, almost wincing at the fact that those words sounded more jealous than he had before.

Francis' eyes widened and then he laughed. "Don't worry, I've been plenty productive," he said, pushing himself off from the counter and walking past Arthur, brushing a hand over his hair. "And don't worry, next time I'll make sure that I sleep with someone with a lover to get angry, just for you."

Arthur twitched his head away from the touch with a growl, "Of course you will.  I wouldn't expect less of you."

Francis paused, not quite moving away yet though he really just wanted to get upstairs and collapse into bed. "Will you sleep tonight?"

"Probably not," Arthur answered honestly as he finished off the tea and hauled himself to his feet.  He set the cup on the counter and turned back toward Francis.  His leg hurt less, but he was still gripping his cane hard enough that his knuckles were white.

"That's not good," Francis said. "If you don't get your beauty sleep you'll turn into a downright monster." Plus, it wouldn't be good for their business.

"I'm going back upstairs to attempt to sleep, but I don't expect it to work," Arthur clarified his original statement.

"You should just do instead of attempt," Francis replied, tone flippant.

Arthur's green eyes narrowed, "Because everything's as simple as that."

"Of course it is," Francis said, laughing and heading upstairs into his room. Pulling his shirt off, he unlocked his phone screen as he dropped it on his nightstand automatically. He paused though, when he noticed the missed messages, thumbing them open and freezing. Without bothering to put his shirt back on he bolted back out of his room and back toward the stairs.

Arthur was halfway up the stairs and stopped when he saw Francis there.  Focusing his gaze on the other man's eyes instead of his chest, he blinked once at the look there, "What's happened?"

Francis was still holding his phone and he glanced down at it before back at Arthur. "You know that fuss you've been putting up about a new Head unbalancing your entire equation in the city. Well, it's just gotten a lot more fucked up. Otho's dead."

Paling at that, Arthur's grip on the bannister tightened momentarily before he continued up the stairs until he stood next to Francis, "You're sure about that information?"

"Yes," he said and added, "Fairly." It was Ludwig's number that had sent the message, because Ludwig knew how often he, Antonio and Gilbert went to drinks together. It had started years ago when they'd ended up causing havoc in the same bar and had oddly stuck together since. He'd never mentioned those drinks to Arthur, unsure if he knew about them or not. When Matthew or Arthur asked where he was on those nights, he just laughed and said that he was out drinking wine with beautiful women as usual, even though Gilbert and Antonio were certainly not beautiful women in his usual sense.

It was the added information about Gilbert missing that was making it hard to think straight but he didn't want Arthur to know why that was the case. "The older brother is missing too."

Arthur ran a hand over his eyes, already running calculations for if it would be possible to offer aid to the new Head of the German House without it seeming suspicious.  There had been no love lost between himself and Otho, but that was the way with most of the Heads and it was time to see if it was possible to change some of that, "Fuck.  Any leads as to who's behind it?"

"No," Francis said, that information not having been passed along. He'd call Ludwig tomorrow. "But it can be assumed it's the Russians."

Nodding once, Arthur paused for a moment, "Offer them any help we can give in finding those responsible and in any moves they intend to make."

Francis nodded. "I'll contact them tomorrow," he said, wishing he'd seen the messages when they were sent rather than now.

Arthur sighed, but nodded again, "Alright.  Good night, Francis."  There was no chance of getting to sleep now and he was intending to go to work in his office to sort out what help they might be able to give the Germans without undermining themselves in the process.

Francis looked at him for a moment before nodding and he retreated more quickly than he usually did to get a door between them. Arthur watched him go before sighing again and turning to lock himself in his office.


	7. The Look and Feel and Sound of Guns

It was midmorning by the time Ludwig caught a breath. He'd moved already into Otho's office and the door had just closed behind Vash and Elizaveta when he let his head thud against the table. There was still nothing from Gilbert and the House was running around, but he had a few minutes to himself. Time for quietness and only him in his own mind and it felt like the most glorious thing he could have asked for.

Except barely a minute later he fumbled his phone out and it was already ringing before he realized he'd hit Feliciano's number.

Feliciano set his brush in a jar of paint thinner and picked up his phone, careful not to get the golden paint on the casing, "Hello?"

Ludwig had no idea what to say, blinking in silence for a moment. "Hello," he managed. "It's, uh, Ludwig. I'm sorry, you're probably busy I shouldn't have called."

"Ludwig," Feliciano's voice held a note of joy to hear him, "No, it's no trouble.  I'm not busy right now.  You're a lot busier than I am."  He paused before asking, quietly for him, "How are you holding up?"

"It's been," he started and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "A hell of a day. I just," he took another breath. "I just wanted to hear your voice." There was another beat and then he groaned. "No, never mind that sounded pathetic."

Feliciano laughed softly at that, "Trust me, that's not pathetic.  I have a scale of what should be considered pathetic and that doesn't come close."

"Are you certain?" Ludwig asked, voice faint.

"I'm sure, I promise," Feliciano's voice held a smile.

"Thank you," Ludwig said quietly. "How... how are you today?"

"Worried for your sake, and your brother's.  Wishing my brother would gain a grain of sense, but, well beyond that it's a good day on my side.  I've made progress on the painting of Antonio," he offered.

"What is your brother doing?" Ludwig asked, leaning back in his chair and trying to ignore the worry and fear and anger the word brother brought up. He just wanted to make sure Gilbert was alive.

"Avoiding dealing with anything that resembles an emotion by spending hours interrogating a traitor in the House," Feliciano sighed, settling on a couch in the room he liked to paint in.

"That," Ludwig started and paused. "Well, I can understand that. To some extent I think Gilbert would do that too, though his method had—has," he corrected to the present tense. "Drinking as much as violence. What's your brother trying to ignore?"

"He'll have my hide for telling you this," Feliciano muttered under his breath before speaking at his normal level.  "He and Antonio have been dancing around each other for years, until Antonio got himself shot.  Lovino chose to run the other way the morning after they, well..."

Ludwig blushed suddenly and cleared his throat. "Oh, well, that's good for them." He paused, frowning. "How many years are you talking about though?"

"Six," Feliciano almost groaned.  "They've been ignoring and suppressing and avoiding for _six years_."

Ludwig paused, trying to put the math together in his head. "But," he started. "Wouldn't that have been..." He didn't want to ask outright about the age difference, or bring up the illegality of it considering the reports spread out over his desk about extortion rackets and murders.

"Lovino was sixteen.  I don't ask, I don't bother and who knows whether Antonio felt that way at that point.  Technically it's legal age of consent, but it doesn't matter much now since neither of them did anything about it," Feliciano paused and considered that.  "No, that's not true.  Lovi tried to stab Antonio shortly after he figured it out back then.  Lovino has odd ways of showing he cares."

"You don't happen to share those ways, do you?" Ludwig couldn't help but ask. "Because I saw no knives in the pie."

That startled a laugh out of Feliciano, "No, I don't have the same need to prove that other people can take care of themselves before I care about them that Lovi does.  No knives from me."

"I'm glad," Ludwig said. "Not that I can't take care of myself or anything but I'm glad there's no knives. So they finally worked themselves out?"

"If you can call it that with Lovino still running away every chance he gets and Antonio currently not able to go after him," Feliciano sighed.  "If it was any other two people I would say that yes they had worked things out, but it's them so there's no way to say that for sure."

"Damn," Ludwig said, trying to remember what Gilbert had ever said about Antonio. "Things did seem rather odd between them during the meeting."

"That was normal actually."

Ludwig paused. "Alright, so that makes more sense then." He took another breath, shifting forward to rest his head against the desk. "But you... you're doing well?"

"I am, yes," Feliciano answered.  "I wish I could do something to help you, but except for that I am doing well."

"This is helping," Ludwig said and turned his head slightly to check his watch. "It really is."

"I'm glad.  Are you able to get any rest right now?"

"I slept last night," he said, "Sortta. Mostly."

"And you're going to sleep tonight?" The younger man prompted softly.

"I'll try," Ludwig said. "I really will."

"Good.  I, have you heard anything yet?"

"Not yet," Ludwig sighed. "There's no witnesses, no way we can get into the Russian House to check," he sighed. "I just want to know that he's alive."

Feliciano was quiet for a long moment, trying to imagine what he'd do if anything happened to Lovino, but unable to wrap his mind around it, "I, I hope you hear soon."

"Feliciano," Ludwig said after a moment. "If... if I could.  Would you like to go out again?"

"If, if you can I would, yes," Feliciano answered quickly.

"Thank you," Ludwig said and glanced up as Vash pushed the door open again. "I have to go. But... I'll talk to you later," he finished lamely.

"Take care, Ludwig.  And be careful," Feliciano replied softly.

"You too," Ludwig murmured and flipped the phone shut.

Vash arched an eyebrow, but simply crossed to stand in front of Ludwig's desk, "Roderich sent me to tell you that he tried to reach Feliks and was told rather succinctly no.  He's ruled out most of the other Houses, and he says that from the brief glimpses hee's able to pull up on some cameras that he put around our territory who knows when it's almost entirely confirmed as the Russians."

Ludwig nodded. "But we still have no idea where they have Gilbert or why?" he asked.

The other shook his head, "Not yet, no.  But we're working on it."

"Thank you, Vash," Ludwig sighed as the door was pushed open again, someone else coming in with a report. Vash nodded once and slipped out.

o-o-o

Lovino woke up slowly, staring at the ceiling and reminding himself to relax and stay put until Antonio woke up.  Alfonso had given permission for Antonio to finally get up and about that day and Lovino was glad while also a bit concerned by that thought.  His chances of retreat lowered with Antonio being able to follow him.

Still half asleep, Antonio pressed closer, the bed small enough that he felt justified in falling asleep and waking up tangled around the other. "You're still here," he murmured, even though Lovino had tried the morning before to stay longer and make it less obvious he was running away.

"I only just woke up," Lovino admitted, still not relaxed, but also not pushing Antonio away.

It was too early in the morning to sigh so Antonio kissed Lovino's neck instead, nuzzling closer.

"Alfonso said you were able to get up today," Lovino murmured, tilting his head back, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

"Yeah," Antonio agreed, draping one arm around Lovino's chest and still worming his way closer, moving up to kiss the shell of his ear.

Lovino shuddered slightly at the touch, "Are you planning to deal with Rodriguez today?"

"Yes," Antonio said, blowing air onto Lovino's ear. "I'd like to possibly eat breakfast first."

Breath catching, Lovino reached up to trace a finger over the shell of Antonio's ear, "We, we should do that then.  B-breakfast I mean."

Antonio hummed and it sounded like agreement but he didn't move. "I'd not mind eating you instead," he said. "If it meant not moving."

Lovino's breath stuttered and he finally turned and kissed Antonio hard, demanding. Antonio growled into the kiss, threading his fingers through Lovino's hair and holding on.  Lovino melted into the kiss, moaning when Antonio's hand brushed his curl.

Grinning against his mouth, Antonio ran his fingers along the entire length of the curl before tugging it again. He hadn't had the mobility to map out every place that made Lovino squirm, not to mention the fact that he wasn't sure Lovino had really wanted slow love making before, so he was glad to have at least figured out the curl and the way it caused Lovino to react.

Whimpering in the back of his throat, Lovino flushed and arched up against Antonio, "A-Antonio, please."

"Didn't you want breakfast?" Antonio said around his own groan, hand not tangled around Lovino's curl sliding down his side.

"Y-you want to let me into public like this?" Lovino moaned, biting Antonio's lower lip.

"No," Antonio growled, possession suddenly in his voice. "No one else should see you like this."

Lovino's lips curled up very slightly at that, "Then breakfast c-can wait."

Rolling onto his side, Antonio slid his uninjured leg between Lovino's, shoving their mouths together again. Running his tongue over the roof of Antonio's mouth, Lovino canted his hips upward and brought one of his hands up to pull Antonio's head down further.

Antonio wasn't sure whether he was laughing or moaning then, tangling himself more and more around Lovino, hands and body in motion.

After they finally stopped moving and Lovino's breath started to even out again, Antonio shambled out of bed and shuffled Lovino toward the shower with him, trying not to fall back asleep.

Using the cane Alfonso had left and occasionally leaning on Lovino instead, he managed to get all the way downstairs and into the breakfast room. Most of the organization was eating breakfast, Alfonso eying Antonio's walk critically and trying not to think why the pair of them was so much later than he expected.

Lovino stepped away from Antonio and settled into the empty chair next to Feliciano who offered him raised eyebrows and a grin which Lovino ignored.  There were a few other significant looks from around the table, but everyone was smart enough not to say anything.

Bella and Lars looked at each other and Bella tried not to laugh at that. "It's good to see you back on your feet," Alfonso said and Antonio rolled his eyes.

"Considering you were the one who allowed me up? Thanks."

Feliciano glanced toward Antonio, smiling a bit, "So you're feeling better, then?"

"Much," Antonio smiled. "Your brother has been a great help as well."

Lovino turned bright red and kept his attention focused on his meal, ignoring the way his brother tried to bite back a laugh and ended up coughing instead.  Feliciano finally caught his breath and nodded, "I'm glad to hear it."

For a moment, Antonio narrowed his eyes at Feliciano before laughing and shaking his head. "You're a pain," he said, but it sounded fond.

There was a stir from around the table. "You're remarkably happy for someone who let Rodriguez get away with almost murdering him." Antonio's eyes snapped down the length of the table.

Lovino's gaze darted down the table and he felt his temper spike, even as he knew this was Antonio's place to address that, "You wanna say that again?"

"Sure," the man snapped, and Antonio couldn't think of his name. "You've been relying on Vargas and the man who tried to kill you is still alive. I'm personally still wondering how you were stupid enough to get shot in the first place."

Antonio watched him through lidded eyes, hands folded over the table. "You're right, that is a problem," he said and his voice was different from the breezy way he usually tried to talk.

Lovino's jaw tensed, but Feliciano reached out and lay a hand on his knee under the table to keep him still and silent.  This was something that Antonio _had_ to deal with or there was a chance the House could break into factions and they would see at minimum a repeat of the past week.

"Say, Lovino," Antonio said. "You have Rodriguez, right? Like I asked."

Lovino looked to the Head of the House and nodded, "Yes. As you asked he's waiting for your decision as to his final punishment."

"I'm still having a bit of trouble with stairs. Would you fetch him?" Antonio asked, pushing himself to his feet.

Lovino blinked once, but nodded and rose, "Of course."  He slipped out of the room to drag Rodriguez out of the basement.

Antonio watched him go before hauling himself to his feet and leaving the cane in the dining room. It made walking slower than usual, with a bit of a limp but he controlled it mostly, ignoring if it hurt.

Cursing, Alfonso rose, grabbing the cane and following as most of the House trailed after Antonio. Feliciano paused, before following, catching up to Bella and Lars and glancing from one to the other.

Lovino appeared moments later, hauling a bound Rodriguez with him. Rodriguez had been struggling intermittently since Lovino pulled him out of the room in the basement, but he truly started to twist away when he caught sight of Antonio at the top of the stairs.  Lovino pulled him over in front of Antonio, stopping a couple of paces away and wrenching Rodriguez's arm subtly to get him to stop struggling.

Antonio had been waiting, several faces peeking around the hallway but currently no one daring to actually approach him except Alfonso. "Antonio," he said, still holding the cane.

"Thank you, Lovino," Antonio said, ignoring his brother to grab Rodriguez and haul him forward again by the shirt. "You really shouldn't have sent someone else to try and kill me you know. There's just something about someone else fucking up the job you wanted to get done."

Lovino stepped back, away from Antonio and Rodriguez, sparing a glance for Alfonso as Rodriguez began to stammer out a stream of apologies and pleas for clemency.

"Think of that before trying to kill me," Antonio snarled. "At least have the balls to follow through with what you did." He stopped, looking back to where Alfonso and Lovino were watching, others clustered behind them. Looking down at the floor he paused, considering the tile before pushing the door to the courtyard open and dragging Rodriguez through.

Rodriguez struggled desperately, even as most of House followed them into the courtyard.  Feliciano hesitated in the doorway, but took the step into the courtyard when Lars put a firm, yet gentle, hand on his back and gave him a gentle nudge to get him moving again.

"Anything else you have to say?" Antonio asked, glancing around the courtyard and meeting the eyes of the man who had confronted him at breakfast.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ever even considered trying to take you out.  Don't kill me, por favor," Rodriguez watched the Head of the House with wide eyes.

Looking aghast, Antonio looked down at him. "Lo siento," he said instead and shot the man between his eyes, leaning away from the blood splatter. "That was pathetic," he said, having at least shown some mercy in not letting that condemnation be the last words Rodriguez had heard.

Feliciano stumbled back a half-step but ran into Lars and stopped there, eyes wide.  Lovino stood at the edge of the courtyard watching impassively, but there was a glint of something in his eyes that only those who knew him well would likely notice or recognize as a hint of fear.

"Anyone else?" Antonio asked, spreading his hands and trying not to notice the small smears of blood on his shirt. "Anyone else think that I can't lead?"

Silence greeted him in response.

"Good," he said, and moved quickly back to where Alfonso was standing, taking the cane only once they were behind the next corner and collapsing against the wall.

"This," Alfonso started and bit back his anger. "This is what I meant by you can get up if you _don't stress your leg._ "

Lovino appeared a few moments later and looked over Antonio, frowning, "I understand why you didn't use your cane, but damnit, Antonio you're going to end up stuck in bed again at this rate."

"Probably," he said, leaning his head back against the wall. "I think I need to not be seen right now though."

"I’ll help you back to your room then," Lovino offered.

"Speaking of which," Alfonso said and Antonio looked over. "You really should move."

"What?" Antonio frowned.

"Into the master bedroom," Alfonso said. "The suite, rather. It's time. Vargas has been gone long enough, and you need the extra level of authority that comes from being established there."

“But," Antonio protested, liking his small room with the tiny window, the space comfortable to him. The master suite was airy with a high ceiling, though it had a substantially larger bed as well.

Lovino paused at that, "I'll help you up there.  And Alfonso and I can move your stuff easily.  It would be a good step to take.  Right now, really."

Antonio took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and finally pushing off the wall to stumble against Lovino. "Alright," he said. "Alright."

Lovino nearly stumbled as well at the abrupt addition of Antonio's weight.  He glanced at the older man and started carefully toward the master suite, "Are you going to be alright?"

"No," Antonio said. "I mean, not at the present. I will be."

"Is there anything I can get for you?"  He spared a glance back toward the courtyard, but no one seemed to be coming down the hall they were in fortunately.

"No," he said, not having actually eaten anything at breakfast. "Just, come on."

"I'm not going to be able to stay very long once we get you to the suite," Lovino said, focused ahead of them rather than looking at Antonio.

"Alright," he said and paused, feeling even more tired. "Why not?"

"Because you need to not look like you're relying on someone else's presence right now."

"Fuck," Antonio said. "Fuck. Lovino," he paused, frowning at the stairs to the second floor. "But you will come, tonight?"

"I will.  I even promise that I'll be there before midnight."

Antonio made a soft sound that might have been a laugh. "Thank you," he said, stopping in front of the door to the master suite. "Though, these rooms used to be your grandfather's... I don't want there to be anything weird..."

"I doubt there will be.  They're the Head's rooms either way," Lovino reminded.  "Doesn't really matter if there's something weird.  You need to take these rooms."

"I'd still rather you be in them," Antonio said. "It's a weird idea for me."

"It shouldn't be," Lovino said quietly, opening the door.  "Come on."

Making sure the door was closed behind them, he clattered over to the bed and collapsed down on it, spreading his arms out. "Ugh. It's much softer than mine."

Lovino hesitated before joining him and sitting down on the mattress, "It is.  Is that a bad thing?"

"It's different," Antonio said, tilting his head back. "We could both be on this bed and it would be possible not to touch you."

"Considering how much you sprawl out I think that's not likely."  He paused, "You should get cleaned up."

Antonio looked down at his shirt. "My clothes are still in the other room," he said and cringed, reaching a hand out to Lovino. "I love you."

Lovino hesitated briefly before he took Antonio's hand in his, "I can go get those for you."

"Thank you," Antonio said quietly and paused again. "I hate having to shoot people, especially like that."

"Antonio, you didn't have a choice," Lovino said, watching the other man.  "It doesn't make it better that you had to, but what else could you do?"

"Nothing, likely," Antonio said, pushing himself further onto the bed and sitting up to lean over his leg, considering the wound. "I'd still rather it not have happened." He glanced out the window toward the balcony and realized it overlooked the courtyard and dropped his gaze back down.

Lovino followed that look and rose, pulling the curtains over the glass doors, "It made a point clear, though, which means it shouldn't need to happen again." At least for a while until the next idiot thought that Antonio was weaker than he actually was.

Watching him, Antonio sighed softly, dropping his arms into his lap. He thought about the expression he had briefly seen on Lovino's face when he'd turned around in the courtyard. "Is your brother going to be alright?" he asked instead.

"He knows why it needed to be done," Lovino replied, not able to offer more than that.

Antonio looked down at his hands, turning them over. There was no blood on them but he curled them across his chest and looked back at Lovino. "Do you need to go?" he asked as Alfonso suddenly shoved into the room with boxes piled on top of each other.

Lovino looked toward where Alfonso was and nodded slightly, "I'm going to go get what's still left in your other room and bring it up here."

"Thank you," Antonio said as Alfonso dropped the boxes, not commenting on where he'd found Antonio's crucifix before dropping it on the side table.

"Go take a shower," he commanded instead. "And then sit the fuck back down so I can look at your leg. Also, you're off moving for pretty much the rest of the day, got it?"

Lovino glanced back at the two brothers before slipping out of the room to go gather up what was still left of Antonio's possessions.  He ought to find Feliciano while he was at it and make certain his twin actually was going to be alright.

Showered and with the gunshot wound treated again, Antonio sat on the large bed, going through reports that Bella had dropped off on her way out to the town.

There was a hesitant knock on the door to the suite.

"Come in," Antonio said, though he put his hand on the gun beside him, hating how large the room was and how much space there was around him.

Feliciano entered, closing the door behind him, "Hello, Antonio."

Upon seeing who it was, Antonio snatched his hand back to his lap. "Feliciano. Hello."

"I came, came to see how you were doing.  If there was anything you needed?"

"I'm alright," he said, mustering a smile. "But thank you."

Feliciano didn't look like he quite believed that, "Have you eaten anything today?"

He paused a moment, glancing at where, in between yelling at him, Alfonso had left food by his crucifix. "I've not been hungry."

The young artist nodded very slightly, looking toward the food, "You really ought to eat, though."

"I ought to," Antonio agreed, considering the food in question. "Can I do anything for you?"

Feliciano shook his head, glancing toward the curtains that were drawn over the balcony doors, "I really was just coming to see how you were."

"Are you certain?" Antonio couldn't help ask. He may have hated having to execute someone that wasn't actively attacking him, but more so he kept feeling sick off the expressions on the twins’ faces, no matter how much they were both currently brushing it off.

"I know why you had to do it," Feliciano replied.  "And I know why you had to do it as you did.  I just, I wasn't expecting it to be so, so public."

Antonio dropped his eyes and brought them back up. "It had to be," he said. "For the message to get all the way through. I'm sorry though."

Feliciano drew a steadying breath, "And, and I know that.  So I understand, but it..."  He shook his head, "I understand."

"But you were appalled," Antonio said quietly.

"I've never liked killing," Feliciano supplied.  "I sometimes wonder if I wasn't born into the wrong world entirely.  I don't belong here, really.  I hate the look and feel and sound of guns."

Antonio laughed, the sound dark and bitter. "In many ways, you helped consolidate my position as well as shooting him did. To see Vargas' preferred heir so horrified..." He shook his head slightly, not looking happy in the least. "I think we've all been born into the wrong world sometimes."

Hesitating for a long moment, Feliciano crossed the room, "I never wanted to be the heir.  I, I'm sorry for what it's making you do but I'm glad you took over."

"I know you didn't," Antonio said. "And Lovino thinks he couldn't. It's still odd to go outside the family though."

"But, but that's the thing.  You're not so far outside the family as everyone seems to think."

"I'm not blood," Antonio said with a small frown, wondering what exactly Feliciano meant.

"But you had favor with Grandpa Vargas.  And you've been close to Lovino and I for years.  It's, I know not everyone's going to see it that way, but it’s to the point where you might as well be considered blood," Feliciano shrugged.  "I'm pretty sure I can't actually say that in any clear form."

Something flickered in Antonio's expression. "You... you remember I'm sleeping with your brother now right?" he asked, trying not to think how long he'd known them or the apparent idea that Feliciano thought he might as well be related to them.

Feliciano laughed, "I do remember that, actually.  Let me try to rephrase.  If he hadn't had me or Lovino, I think Grandpa Vargas would have been glad to have you as his first choice as heir.  Even though you're not blood."

"Thank you, Feliciano," Antonio said, taking a deep breath.

Pausing, the younger man considered him and unconsciously echoed his brother's question from earlier, "Are you going to be alright, Antonio?"

"I'll be totally fine," he said, waving one hand. "There's nothing to worry about me here."

"Really?"  Feliciano sounded like he didn't believe him.

"This is my job, my life now," Antonio said. "And... I really hate having to kill my own people." He paused again, and said more quietly, "And I hate hearing people beg like that."

"Your job and your life are Head of the House.  That means protecting the House however you must.  Sometimes that means doing what you just did, but it doesn't usually," Feliciano murmured, looking toward the curtained windows again.  "You have to prove you're in charge, but you can choose to do that less brutally than some would. R-Rodriguez knew what he was risking when he chose to send Acardi after you.  You did what you had to, but, but you shouldn't have to do that again."

"If he had killed me, do you think Rodriguez would have been able to rule?" Anontio asked, trying not to think about the stories he'd heard about when Ivan Braginski had come to power when he'd been terribly young. He'd killed his father's entire inner circle and anyone who might have questioned him. If Antonio would have taken the same path, Lovino and Feliciano would have already been dead along with Rodriguez and Acardi. He wondered if Feliciano had realized that, because Lovino had.

"He wouldn't have survived long enough to find out," Feliciano answered honestly. "Even if he had stayed breathing, I don't think he would have found enough support within the House."  He ran a hand through his hair.  He knew the whispers that went through the House about whether or not Antonio could lead, but none of them suggested a replacement for him.  After that morning, it was unlikely that they would continue either.

Antonio nodded again. "And are you certain you're alright?"

"I will be," came the quiet reply.

"I am sorry," Antonio said. "That you saw and were frightened by that."

"You, you said it yourself, it may have helped secure your power a bit more.  In which case I, I don't regret it."

Antonio blinked once, having not expected that answer. "In a few days—so long as I'm walking without Alfonso taking anything out of my hide—there's a meeting with Ludwig. Would you like to come?"

Feliciano couldn't help the way his eyes lit up at that offer, "Yes, I mean, if I wouldn't be in the way."

"Well it seems better to outright invite you than not," Antonio said, remembering how Ludwig sounded like he was blushing through the phone when he asked for Feliciano's number. "Which... why did you trick your brother into letting you come the last time anyway?"

Feliciano shifted his weight from foot to foot at that, "Curiosity?  And, well, I may have seen Ludwig in the neutral zone before.  It's not hard to figure out who he is even without talking to him."

Antonio blinked in surprise at him. "That's downright sneaky of you, Feli. Who'd have expected it?"

That garnered a faint smile, "Not Lovino, that much is for sure."

"He really shouldn't underestimate you," Antonio said and shook his head.  "You mention that fact to Ludwig yet?"

"He hasn't asked yet," Feliciano answered.

Antonio grinned, "And has he told you how he got your number yet?"

That earned a smile, "He said he borrowed Gilbert's phone and called you."

"It was pretty cute," Antonio said, still grinning. "I felt like a matchmaker."

"I've been meaning to thank you for giving him my number, I just hadn't had the chance yet," Feliciano offered.

"I'm just glad you didn't mind," Antonio said. "Though, let's not mention that fact to your brother either."

"I won't tell if you won't," Feliciano agreed with a laugh.

"Good, because I'm currently very fond of him liking me," Antonio said, checking his watch without thinking about it to see how close it was to night yet. When he realized what he was doing, he carefully folded his hands over the files in his lap, trying to put it from his mind.

"He's left you alone all day again, hasn't he?" Feliciano asked with a sigh.

"He brought me my things from the other room," Antonio said. "But right now I can't be seen relying only on him. Today, he was right to stay away. That doesn't mean I have to _like_ it though."

Feliciano shook his head slightly, "Alright.  Would you like me to stay with you for a while so you're not stuck up here by yourself?"

"If you like," Antonio said with a smile. "I don't want to pressure you or if you have something else to do..."

"Nothing that can't wait.  I'll just go grab my sketchbook and then I'll be back?"  Feliciano offered.

"Thank you," Antonio said again. "I would sort of like to hear how it went with Ludwig—as I'm assuming that's where you got the information the other night."

Feliciano nodded, "It was.  I'll be back in a minute."  He ducked out of the room and, true to his word was back quickly with his sketchbook and pencils in hand.

o-o-o

Vash was on his way through the foyer, intending to catch an hour or two of sleep before getting back to work, but paused when the doorbell rang.  Pulling out his gun he crossed to the door and opened it carefully, frowning when he saw Sadiq Adnan and his bodyguard standing there.

"Hello," Sadiq said, several bouquets of tulips in one hand.

Vash arched an eyebrow, but holstered his gun, "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I might be able to meet with the Head of your House?" Sadiq asked. "To both express my condolences and also to discuss business. And," he paused, shifting the flowers he was holding. "Possibly to offer get well wishes to Roderich."

Looking like he expected a knife to be concealed in the flowers, Vash stepped back to let them inside, flagging down one of the other members of security and instructing them to see if Ludwig was willing to meet with Sadiq.  He closed the door behind the two guests and looked them over, "Flowers?"

"Get well wishes for Roderich," he said, holding one of them up. "Sympathy flowers for your new Head, and," he paused, frowning at the third one. "I don't remember what the third one was for."

Vash half-turned at the sound of his name from the staircase.  Lili stood there, dressed professionally, "Ludwig says that he's available to meet with Mr. Adnan now."

Sadiq blinked once at her and then smiled. "You look utterly charming," he said. "I'm so glad the clothes suit."

Vash's expression darkened, even as his sister lit up at the compliment.  Lili smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear and inclining her head, "Thank you, sir."

"It is good to see you so happy and comfortable looking in them," Sadiq said, inclining his head to Vash before moving up the stairs. Vash frowned after him, but Lili smiled again and turned to lead Sadiq to Ludwig's office.

He quietly requested Gupta to stay behind when they reached the office and handed Lili the flowers he couldn't remember grabbing. "For you, if you would like."

Lili accepted them with another faint smile, "Thank you."  She tapped on the door and let Ludwig know that Sadiq was there before slipping away again.

Roderich had all but taken up residence in one of the chairs in Ludwig's office, out of the way in one of the corners with his crutches leaning on the wall behind him.  His back had started protesting bed rest within two days and as long as he didn't move too much a chair worked just as well.

Entering the office, Sadiq looked surprised to see Roderich there. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?" he asked, taking a look at the crutches and Ludwig snorted from where he was finishing a piece of paperwork at the desk.

Roderich looked over his glasses from where he'd been plugging in data into his computer, "Wonderful, now people from other Houses are telling me how to see to my own health."

Shaking his head slightly, Sadiq dropped the flowers carefully into Roderich's lap, a deep purple mixed in with several white ones. He turned to Ludwig, inclining his head as Ludwig finally looked up at him. "Condolences on your loss," he said, handing him the largest bouquet he had, reds and yellows and a purple so deep it was almost black.

"Thank you," Ludwig said, blinking once.

"But more so," Sadiq continued. "I believe we should talk business."

Roderich startled slightly at the bouquet, blinking at it before setting it aside.  He glanced at the two Heads, "Would you like this conversation held in private?  I can go, if you need me to."

"It does not bother me," Sadiq shrugged and Ludwig shook his head, allowing Roderich to stay or go as he wanted.

Roderich nodded once, deciding it was easier if he didn't move again until he was actually ready to leave the room and turned his attention mostly back to the computer screen.

"What business would you like to discuss then?" Ludwig asked.

Sadiq's smile was mirthless. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but your grandfather was an idiot." Ludwig didn't even protest though his eyes widened slightly. "You have two needs right now—you need allies because the Russians seem intent on taking you out on a more active scale than before. Secondly, your intelligence is good but you have no major in to the Russian House... or any in at all for that matter."

"We have some allies," Ludwig said after a beat.

Roderich's gaze rose and he paused for a moment before speaking, "Do you have an in to the Russian House?"

"Much more of one than you do," he replied. "We share a border, it helps. I'm not saying I could get you information tomorrow but I have people stationed nearby and a few inside. Low inside, mostly, but they're there. Something's been stirring the entire House up lately, I know that much."

Nodding very slightly, Roderich glanced at Ludwig, not needing to voice that that was the most they'd heard specifically regarding the Russians in days that wasn't supposition.

"And Gilbert?" Ludwig asked. "My brother? Has there been anything about him?"

"Not that I've heard specifically," Sadiq replied. "Other than what might fit into the larger fuss going on at the main house. The territory seems in general to be mobilizing. There's more patrols around the edges, security at the casino there has even clamped down."

"You mentioned the need for allies.  You're not much mistaken there," Roderich spoke again, knowing how good Sadiq's information branch was.  "Are you offering us an alliance?"

"I'm considering the merits of one," Sadiq replied and Ludwig's brows went up.  "I know it didn't make much of an impact on the other Houses but the last time there was bloody street fighting in this city was when Ivan decided he wanted some of my territory. I'd rather not see him decide to do that again. I'd almost thank you for distracting him by pissing him off so much, but if he's moving around the borders I'd rather him not move into mine."

Ludwig paused, folding his hands on the desk and looking the other man over. "What would you like in return?"

"The general alliance needs," Sadiq shrugged. "Guarantees, safety, promises not to invade my territory, etcetera."

"Do you have other agreements we should be aware of to avoid violating any terms there?" Roderich asked, already sifting through data he had on their current agreements with other Houses.

"A neutrality pact with the English," he said. "But that's currently under consideration. I believe you have an alliance with that Spaniard?"

"That's also in flux," Ludwig murmured. "But it should stand."

"We should know the status of that by the end of the week," Roderich said quietly, considering the offer of help they had had from the English House the day following Otho's death and avoiding a frown as Kirkland hadn't sent any requirements with the offer—which likely meant he wanted something but didn't want to outright say it.

"I'm surprised you're asking for an alliance instead of simply a neutrality pact," Ludwig said and Sadiq shrugged.

"Oh don't worry, it's entirely selfish. If Ivan comes after you and smashes you, he's just going to turn around and probably slam through my territory. It's sortta more like wanting to support you like a buffer. Besides, you really need all the help you can get." He glanced over his shoulder at Roderich but didn't add that he might have another, also selfish, reason.

Roderich glanced up, meeting Sadiq's eyes briefly and his lips quirked very slightly, “Selfish or not, it's appreciated.  Did you have specific guarantees you wanted from an alliance?"

"My territory is mine," he said, steel suddenly in his voice. "And I'd rather there be a declaration of it being withdrawn than finding out in hindsight."

Eyebrows rising sharply at that, Roderich glanced at Ludwig for confirmation, that he had little doubt of seeing in the given situation. Ludwig nodded, having heard rumors about the English House undermining such a pact recently. "I'm assuming non-aggression and mutual help agreements as well?"

"Of course,” Sadiq agreed.

"And an information exchange should anything be heard relevant to the other House?" Roderich clarified.

"Certainly," Sadiq said, glancing back at him again with a grin full of teeth. "After all, we have some of the best information in the city between us."

Roderich's lips curled upward at that, "And aren't we modest about that?"

"Who needs modesty when one has the best?" Sadiq paused and Ludwig almost asked them if they would like his office to themselves but kept quiet instead.

"I'll concede that point," Roderich returned with a hint of amusement and an incline of his head.

"How kind of you," Sadiq murmured.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "Would you like to discuss the terms of the treaty now?" he asked.

Checking his watch, Sadiq nodded. "Provided someone in this house can make coffee, I believe I have the time."

Roderich closed his computer and slid it into his bag, "I'll go see if I can get that made.  Ludwig, would you care for any?"

"I'll ask Lili," Ludwig said, standing quickly. "You don't move."

"Oh for the love of—" Roderich settled back with a mutter.  "I'm _fine_."

"Sit," Ludwig commanded and slipped out of the room, Sadiq laughing behind his hand.

Roderich growled something in a mix of German and Italian that was anything but complimentary, but didn't protest more than that.

Sadiq's brows rose. "You should take care of yourself you know," he said instead.

"I also need to keep strength in my legs for when I'm finally allowed more motion than from my bed to this chair and back," Roderich replied, almost testily.

"There's no shame in having been injured," Sadiq said after a beat. "It would be wiser to take care of yourself now than to push yourself to only make it worse."

Removing his glasses to rub his eyes, the intelligence officer let his shoulders slump incrementally, "I can't afford it right now.  Not with everything that's suddenly going on."

"And the benefit of you overworking yourself?" Sadiq asked, tilting his head to one side. Ludwig pushed the door back open then, and up close Sadiq could see the dark circles under his eyes more clearly. "Maybe it's a German thing," he said under his breath and Ludwig frowned.

"I'm not overworking myself," Roderich protested.  "We need confirmation of life or death, and until that time there isn't much I would classify as overworking."

"The brother, you mean?" Sadiq said, not quite understanding why Roderich would work himself to the bone, though he understood the dark circles under Ludwig's eyes.

Roderich nodded once, "Yes, I mean Gilbert."

"I'll ask all my contacts to keep an eye out for him," Sadiq said. "Or any news of a guest in the house."

"Thank you," Roderich murmured, turning his attention to getting his computer set again.

"Of course," Sadiq said, and turned his attention to Ludwig and alliance terms.


	8. God Forbid Gangsters are Sneaky

Gilbert glared up at the ceiling, feeling twitchy and desperate to move. Crutches had appeared in his room yesterday but he was still expected to stay down, and he certainly wasn't allowed to leave the room by himself. Toris would bring him medicine and check his bandages, and Eduard would bring him food more often than not.

What was worse were the few times Ivan had appeared, sitting by his bedside and smiling vaguely at him, talking about the weather or... or _sunflowers_ of all things and Gilbert could not understand how the man who'd almost beaten him to death with a pipe could smile so much while talking about flowers. If he made small talk, Ivan would stay and at least distract him for a while, but as soon as he even hinted at wanting to know why he was here or what was going on Ivan's eyes would close down and he would leave, leaving Gilbert alone with his own thoughts.

Occasionally he would hear other voices, the deep tones of Winter or a stammering boy, or occasionally, but rarely, female voices.

"Fuck," he told the ceiling again, a word he was sure the ceiling was very used to by now.

Toris pushed the door open, closing it behind himself, "After, afternoon, Gilbert."

Gilbert grunted before sitting up, wincing when his ribs protested the movement but he didn't care. "Hey. Come to check like usual?"

"And bring your latest dose of medicine," Toris agreed.  "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he growled, indicating he wasn't fine at all. "Bored out of my mind. Remind me why someone left crutches here if I'm not supposed to _use_ them?"

"Probably to make certain you'll do as told and not cause trouble," Toris answered, focusing on checking the other's bandages.  "Have you asked if you can have something to keep you busy while you heal?"

"Like what?" Gilbert snapped. "A book?"

Toris flinched at that, "Maybe?  I don't, don't know, but something."

He took a breath before letting it out in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding surly. "It's not your fault but I'm not good at anything that requires _sitting still._ "

"Well, you're not, not going to be allowed to do anything else, so you'll have to deal with that until you hear otherwise," Toris' voice was quiet but firm.

"God," Gilbert said, head banging back against the wall. "You are so whipped, you know that? Besides, complaining is currently my only fucking hobby."

Toris shot him a scowl at that, "Do you know what Ivan does to anyone who crosses him?  Anyone who looks like they might be considering it?"

"He clearly wants me alive for something," Gilbert snapped back. "But I have personal experience with his anger, I'm just trying to figure out why I'm still _alive_ instead of dead."

"He'll tell you when he's ready for you to know," Toris answered, stepping back, still scowling.

"And until then?" Gilbert demanded. "I just get to be here in limbo with nothing to do except sit and stare at this stupid ceiling!"

"Then you're going to have to deal with that," Toris snapped.

Gilbert snarled at him. "You are _such_ a help."

"My job's to tend your wounds and give you something for the pain, not entertain you," came the sharp reply.

"You're the most boring soul in the world aren't you?" Gilbert said, hands tense, and suddenly he was pushing himself, trying to get up out of the bed. "Because damnit, I cannot handle being in this stupid—" he froze, looking up to see Ivan standing in the doorway, a sunflower in his hands. "Fuck."

"What are you doing?" Ivan frowned, stepping inside.

Toris took another step back, moving the crutches further from the bed as he did so and keeping his gaze focused at a point that wouldn't make eye contact with either Gilbert or Ivan.

"I can't," Gilbert started and reminded himself that he was supposed to be breathing. "I can't stand it anymore."

"Stand what?" Ivan asked, taking another step forward.

"Being here!" Gilbert snapped and Ivan actually flinched back. "Being in this bed," Gilbert continued. "Without being able to move or do anything and no one talks to me and I need air and to move and I just," he trailed off, frowning at the sunflower. "Why do you have a flower?"

"I thought it might make the room better," Ivan said, setting it and the slim, tall vase on the bedside table, Gilbert frowning at it.

"Is, is there anything else you require, sir?"  Toris asked, glancing at Ivan.

"No," Ivan said, shaking his head without looking at Toris. "That will be all, thank you."

Toris offered a bow and slipped out of the room quickly.

Gilbert watched him go and looked back at Ivan. "Why the fuck am I here?"

"Because I wanted you to be," Ivan replied, finally an answer and Gilbert blinked.

"Wait, seriously?" he asked, having pushed himself to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs off it, hurting but refusing to sit in the same position he had day after day.

Ivan's eyes widened in alarm. "Don't... Don't hurt yourself."

"Seriously?" Gilbert repeated. "Because you wanted me here? Why? No one wants me anywhere unless there's a reason or they're Ludwig or Roderich and you certainly aren't either of them."

Ivan shifted his shoulders, looking at the sunflower before turning back to Gilbert. "It was your House that went back on our agreement," he said, sounding put out and Gilbert blinked again.

"I'm not saying," he started, taking a breath. "I'm not saying my grandfather wasn't a moron for that move," he frowned at Ivan's surprised expression. "But that still doesn't explain—"

Before he could continue something rang and Ivan jumped, fumbling his cell phone out of his pocket and answering it. "Hello? Oh, da, da, I'll be there. Don't worry." He rose, shaking his head slightly that his sister had called him instead of just entering the room. "I have to go," he said, setting the phone down without thinking about it.

"Alright," Gilbert said, tensing and trying carefully not to draw attention to where Ivan was leaving the phone, though it was on the table Ivan was sitting next to, further than he could reach from the bed.

Ivan gave him another vacant smile and left, closing the door behind him. For a moment, holding his breath, Gilbert didn't move, listening to his steps going down the hall.

He counted, trying to get his heart rate under control before he scrambled out of the bed, falling hard on the floor and scrambling over to the table. It hurt like hell to move but he kept going until he was leaning his back against the chair, the cellphone cradled in his hands. Looking at the door again, he took a deep breath before punching in Ludwig's number, glad that Ivan had never done something like locking his phone. He tried to keep breathing as the phone rang until finally it was picked up.

"Hello?" Ludwig asked and he sounded tired but like he was trying to hide it from whoever was on the other end of the line. But that had never worked on his brother.

Gilbert laughed as he heard his brother's voice, the sound almost hysterical. "Oh god, hi Ludwig."

On the other end of the line Ludwig jumped, swiping several things off his desk as he sprung to his feet. "Gilbert! Gilbert is that you?"

Roderich startled from where he was sitting in the corner of Ludwig's office again, "Gilbert?"  He dropped his computer, carefully, and yanked up his crutches, pulling himself to his feet and moving to lean against Ludwig's desk.

"Hi, Ludwig," Gilbert said again, leaning his head back and laughing again. "I missed your voice."

"Where are you?" Ludwig demanded, looking over at Roderich and grinning. "Hold on, Roderich's here too. I'll put you on speaker," he said, setting the phone on the desk and changing the setting.

"Gilbert?"  Roderich's voice held a note of relief, "Gilbert, where the hell are you?"

"With the Russians," he said. "This is Ivan's phone—he forgot it when he left so I have no idea how long... but I'm here. And oddly treated well."

"We'll come and get you," Ludwig said, bracing himself against the desk.

"Are you fucking insane?" Gilbert snapped.

"Ludwig, he's right," Roderich murmured, hating the admission.  "Gilbert, are you well?  Do you know why Braginski has you there?"

"But," Ludwig started to protest.

"First of all, this place is a fortress there is no way you're getting yourself in here and out without really messing something up," Gilbert told his brother and paused. "Besides, I can't really walk. Broken leg, cracked rib. Getting to the phone was a motherfucker of pain, I can't get out." He paused, taking a breath at the strangled sound Ludwig made. "But I'm healing, and oddly being treated well, they even give me pain meds. I have no idea _why_ though. The most I've gotten out of him is that he wants me here and that's downright... scary honestly."

Roderich drew a steadying breath, his own pain beginning to make standing difficult, "Keep yourself safe, Gilbert.  We need you back here, even if it doesn't happen right now.  Which means you do whatever you damn well can to keep yourself safe, got it?"

"I'm working on it," Gilbert said. "Hey, I managed not to yell at anyone until today," he said, frowning over at the sunflower near the bed.

"Brother," Ludwig said, breath catching. "You shouldn't yell at anyone. The point is to be safe."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to stay safe when I don't know what I'm doing here," he snapped and took a breath. "God, Ludwig, I miss you. How's Head of the House going?"

"It'd be better if you were here," Ludwig said, hanging his head down as if being closer to the phone would bring him closer to his brother.

Roderich sighed, "Use your brain, Gilbert, we know you've got one.  It'll keep you alive.  And we'll find a way to get you back.  Once you're on your feet."

"God," Gilbert groaned. "Roderich, I even miss you."

That garnered a wry smile, "Never thought I'd hear you say that.  Or frankly say the same to you.  Get well so you can get your ass back here.  Ludwig needs you at his side."

"And I want to be there," Gilbert said. "God, Ludwig, I want to be there, and to see you... Otho thought I had no loyalty to you or he was worried about it or something," and on the other end of the line Ludwig sucked in a breath, wishing his fears hadn't been true. "But I've always wanted to see you and how you would rule because you're going to be so brilliant at it."

"Then listen to Roderich and be careful until you get back," Ludwig said.

"We can only do so much without you here, you reckless idiot," Roderich contributed, his voice tight though whether with pain or with what he was hearing he couldn't say.

"What about you, Roddy?" Gilbert asked. "Didn't you get yourself shot recently?"

"You think I could rest with you unaccounted for?  Ludwig would have gone mad without me.  Vash gave me my phone back that same night."

Gilbert laughed and the sound caught in his throat. "I can't imagine his face. Take care of yourself so you can take care of Ludwig," Gilbert said.

"Brother," Ludwig started. "Please, let me come and get you, I don't care if you can't walk, I'll—"

"Ludwig, don't," Gilbert said. "Be careful. I'll come back to you in time. They've kept me safe this long." He froze though when the door opened, Ivan standing on the other side and their eyes met. "Oh fuck."

"Son of a bitch," Roderich muttered.  "Gilbert don't you dare call again."  He reached toward the phone with the intention of ending the call.

"Brother," Ludwig said as he heard Ivan's voice.

"What are you doing?" he asked from the door and Gilbert snapped the phone shut just as Ivan grabbed it out of his hands.

"Brother!" Ludwig yelled even though the line was dead. "He," he looked over at Roderich.

Roderich met Ludwig's eyes, but there wasn't much hope in his own expression, "If he's survived this long, he-he should be alright."

"He should have hung up before," Ludwig said, eyes wide. "But he's alive. And we know where he is."

"Which is more than we knew ten minutes ago," Roderich agreed.

"Yes," Ludwig said and caught his breath. "He's alive."

"We know that now," Roderich breathed, leaning heavily on his crutches.  "Thank God."

Ivan hauled Gilbert up by his shirt, slamming him against the wall and digging an elbow into his ribs, making him scream before he could stop it. "What were you doing?" Ivan demanded and it took Gilbert several moments to get his breath back.

"I called my brother," he admitted when he could and Ivan slammed the elbow into his ribs again. This time he managed not to scream but he stopped breathing.

"What did you tell him?" Ivan demanded, dragging a hand through Gilbert's hair and yanking his head back.

"That I was alive," Gilbert rasped.

"Nothing else?" Ivan snarled and Gilbert panted, trying to get his breath back.

One of his hands pushed against Ivan's chest. "I didn't tell him anything except that I was alive and that I was here, I swear. He wouldn't be stupid enough to walk in here and if he attacks you it would hardly be because I phoned him. I know nothing about this place, what could I have told him?"

For a long moment, Ivan just stared at him, dragging his head back by his hair to meet his eyes. Panting still, Gilbert waited, unsure what was going through Ivan's mind. Finally Ivan stepped back and all but threw Gilbert back onto the bed. "You need to not move," he said, Gilbert gasping and hurting. "If you intend to heal."

With that he took his phone and slammed the door on his way out.

Groaning, Gilbert let his head fall back, staring at the sunflower Ivan had left earlier and wishing he understood anything. Feeling his ribs, he cursed, as any progress they'd made on healing felt like it had been undone. "Fuck," he told the ceiling and crawled until he could bury his head in the pillow.

The door to the room opened again and Toris slipped inside, looking mildly annoyed, "What did you do to Ivan?"

"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked, face still smashed into the pillow.

"I mean I'm in here with instructions to check your wounds even though I just did," he crossed to the bed as he spoke.

That caused Gilbert's shoulders to tense and he frowned. "That's cute of him, after that to act like he cares."

"What did you do?" Toris repeated, checking Gilbert over and frowning when he found that one of Gilbert's ribs had been re-broken and another one newly fractured.

"You're assuming it was me," Gilbert muttered, shifting his shoulders and wincing.

"And your rib is broken again because it wasn't?"  Toris asked, keeping his skepticism out of his voice somehow.

"Your boss is the crazy one here," Gilbert said and took another breath. "And I just used his phone."

Toris looked at him in shock, "You used his phone and you thought you'd get away with that?"

"If I had hung up a minute before, I would have," Gilbert muttered. "Besides, he's the one who left it here," he added, aware that didn't really give him a leg to stand on.

"You're lucky you only have one newly cracked rib from that," Toris murmured, rebinding Gilbert's ribs.

"Probably," Gilbert wheezed. He was trying not to stare at the sunflower that had been left. "Was worth it though."

"You called your brother, didn't you?"

"Who else would I have called?" Gilbert huffed. "Of course I called my brother."

"I'm not sure whether to call, to call that gutsy or stupidity at its finest."

Gilbert laughed, the sound pained. "I'm just that awesome, didn't you know that?" Awesome enough to get his rib broken again and this time it hadn't even take a pipe.

Toris offered him a glance at that and stepped back, "Unfortunately you're not going to be able to take any more pain medication until your next dose.  We'll increase the dosage again, but we don't want you over-medicated."

"I can deal," Gilbert snapped, hating being surrounded by strangers and staring at the same walls. He wanted to hear Ludwig's voice again.

Toris looked at him for a long moment but shrugged and headed for the door, "I'll see you in a few hours then."

Folding his arms behind his head instead of screaming at the idea of being left alone for that long again, Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Toris looked at him for a long moment and shook his head before leaving, the door closing firmly behind him.

o-o-o

Matthew sat on the couch in the parlor with his headphones on and a notebook in hand as he scribbled down whatever came to mind from the music he was listening to.  There wasn't much useful coming out of it, but there were a couple of ideas he thought he might be able to run with, given the right inspiration.

Eating a bowl of cereal, Liam plopped himself down across from his cousin, waiting to be noticed or not. Glancing up, Matthew hit the pause button on the song he was listening to and pulled his headphones off, "Hey, Liam."

"Don't stop on my account," he shrugged. "You looked focused."

"It's fine," he closed the notebook.  "Just doing a freewrite."

Liam eyed the notebook, clearly not understanding the concept but trying. "Getting anything productive?"

Matthew shrugged, "Maybe.  Not really anything that caught my attention and latched on, though, you know?"

"Um," Liam shrugged. "Sure."

That earned a faint smile, "You're allowed to say 'no', Liam."

He laughed, shrugging again. "I've gotten out of the habit of saying no to people."

"Well, you should see about learning that again," Matthew suggested with a grin.

"Except that I don't get away with nearly so much with our uncle as you and your brother do," Liam replied. "I'd rather not get into the habit and fuck it up in front of him, thanks."

"That's because you weren't a wide-eyed five or seven-year-old when he met you," Matthew informed him simply.  "Besides, your dad gets away with enough that you should do alright even if you do slip once in a while."

"True," Liam rolled his eyes. "I'm jealous of the big-eyed youngling thing though. Weren't you just as big as that toy you still have?"

"I was a little bit bigger than that," Matthew protested, amusement in his eyes.

"Dude, you were tiny," Liam said, shaking his head. "With a really huge polar bear."

"Hey, I like that polar bear," his cousin said, tossing a throw pillow at him.  "I'd trade it in for a real one if I could.  Well, maybe not trade it."

"Yeah, I'd never believe that you were willing to let that thing go," Liam grinned, throwing the pillow back. Not that he was one to talk, with a collection of koala bear plushes and memorabilia in his closet. "And a real polar bear would take up a lot of room."

Matthew laughed, catching the pillow, "Yeah, but think of the damage that thing would do."

"Our enemies would run in terror," Liam said back with a straight face.

"Damn straight."

"How did you end up with that thing anyway?" Liam asked, putting his bowl aside and leaning back.

"Alfred gave it to me before we got here," Matthew answered, wrapping up his headphones.  "I still don't know where he got it, or how he got it."

"Aw, that's downright adorable," Liam grinned. "Was that because he was going 'ew emotions' and hoped you would latch onto the bear instead of him do you think?"

That garnered a wry smile, "That would be my guess.  Al's never been one to deal with emotions, even when we were little."

"He'd rather throw a hamburger at them and run."

Matthew cracked up at that, "Yes, yes that's it exactly."

"Or he eats ice cream," Liam said and leaned back in the chair, spreading his arms out and dropping his head back. "God, he's such a girl sometimes."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Matthew warned, curling his legs up next to him on the couch.

A balled up coat was tossed at Liam's head from the doorway then. "Too late," Alfred muttered. "You are _such_ a dick." When Liam laughed at him, he shook his head. "You're lucky I don't toss my shoe at your head, asshole."

Matthew attempted to hide his smile and failed, "Where've you been, Alfred?  You could have listened to him ribbing me about that polar bear if you'd shown up a few minutes earlier."

"I still can't believe you have that thing," Alfred muttered, stalking over to snatch his coat back. "I've been out, why?"

"I happen to like that bear," Matthew defended.  "And I was just curious."

"Were you out with that person you're not supposed to be out with?" Liam asked and Alfred kicked him on the way over to the couch.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Matthew looked toward their cousin, "Which translates approximately to 'yes'."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alfred repeated, flopping onto the couch and spreading his arms up over his head and his legs out, coat draped over one knee. "There's no one I'm not supposed to be seeing."

"Really," Liam deadpanned back.

"Not even someone who looks, and I quote, 'absolutely adorable when he blushes'?"  Matthew asked, slyly.

"Certainly not," Alfred frowned over at him and Liam laughed again.

That earned a laugh from Matthew as well, "So, Liam thinks that a real polar bear would take up too much room.  What do you think, Al?"

"I think that would be funny as hell to get past Arthur," Alfred replied, still scowling at Liam.

"I don't know, if I pitched it as a potential asset in a fight I think I might not even have to sneak it in," Matthew offered.

Alfred blinked over at him. "Sure, and you're going to train this polar bear how...?"

"I'll figure something out.  The real problem will be feeding it."

"I was about to add that," Alfred said, grinning over at his brother. "And you know, housing. The element of surprise would only work the first time too."

"I don't know, it's a polar bear," Liam remarked. "It's not really about the element of surprise but the sheer badassery of it."

"Exactly.  And hey, if I can figure out some sort of Kevlar or something for it I bet it'd work in a fight too, I mean without getting shot down faster than I'd care for," Matthew said with a grin.

"It would be interesting to see how the Russians reacted," Liam mused.

Matthew paused at that and then shook his head, "Not sure I want to know."

Alfred paused before shaking his head. "Has anyone heard more from the German House lately?"

"Not since the death of the Head," his younger brother answered.  "Though they've been in talks with other Houses about alliances I think."

"I'm still surprised Arthur even offered them help or an alliance," Alfred said, pillowing his head on one arm stretched across the back of the couch. "Who else? Has anyone heard who they're talking to?"

"Sadiq Adnan was seen going and coming from their territory, and I've heard rumors of alliance with the Roman House," Matthew responded, shifting around until his back was against the arm of the couch.

Alfred paused. "Neither of those people are very liked by Arthur at the moment. I'm still confused by his offer of help to them."

"He likes playing lots of cards at once?" Liam offered.

"He'd probably rather get in good with one of the new Heads than have them both entering power disliking him in addition to not trusting him," Matthew suggested.

"Maybe," Alfred said, tilting his head back again. "Especially considering how twitchy he's gotten over that one guy, Braginski lately."

"Reasonably if it's true that he's the one who took out Otho and captured Gilbert," Matthew countered.  "It's entirely possible he's offered support to the Germans for that too, to have a buffer between us and the Russians you know?"

Alfred sighed. "Sounds sneaky to me."

"Because god forbid gangsters are sneaky," Liam remarked and Alfred threw a pillow at his head, the one closest to him rather than the one Matthew had tossed over earlier.

Matthew looked at his brother and shook his head, "It's Arthur, does that come as a surprise?  The man was a poisoner."

"Ugh," Alfred dropped his head back. "It's so un-heroic."

"Gangsters," Liam reminded him again.

"Look at it this way," Matthew offered, "Even if he's doing it for underhanded reasons he's still offering to help them."

"And help is heroic," Liam said, throwing the pillow back and Alfred groaned.

"Exactly," Matthew nodded, poking his brother's arm.  "So cheer up, he could be not helping at all."

"I still hate you both," Alfred said, pulling the pillow to his chest.

"So how was Kiku?" Liam asked and Alfred glared at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, damnit."

"We don't believe you," his brother chirped.  "Come on, Al, out with it."

"There is nothing in the world to out," he snapped.

"Did you make him blush?" Liam teased and Alfred hurled the pillow back before jumping to his feet.

Matthew shifted, leaning forward to reach for his brother, "Come on, Alfred, don't be like that.  We'll leave off."

Alfred glared at both of them and Liam held his hands up before he finally sat down. "Alright," he said, crossing his arms over his chest before he sprawled out again.

"So, new topic," Matthew considered before nearly smirking.  "Arthur and Francis."

Liam groaned and Alfred blinked at his brother. "Eh? What do you mean Arthur and Francis?"

"He means that they are th' sorriest pair I've ever seen," came a Scottish voice from the doorway as Cameron entered and lounged in one of the chairs his son wasn't occupying.

Liam just grinned over at him and Alfred frowned. "Huh?" he repeated, having completely missed what was going on due in part to his complete refusal to even imagine Arthur with a sexual drive, despite evidence to the contrary.

Matthew sighed, "Have you ever watched Francis flirting with him, Alfred?  Come on, he does it every time they're in the same room together."

"That's flirting?" Alfred frowned. "I mean, okay, Francis flirts but he flirts with _everyone_."

"You are so dense," Liam sighed.

"I'm about two more of their interactions away from lockin' the both of them in a cupboard together," Cameron muttered.

Matthew shook his head, "Arthur would just kill Francis at that point to avoid dealing with things."

"He sortta has the same, ew human emotions reaction Alfred does," Liam nodded.

"I hate you," Alfred informed him.

"Never thought I'd say this about anyone, but I'm pretty sure Arthur has a worse ew emotions reaction than Alfred," Matthew replied, suppressing a smile.

"You know, I hate you too," Alfred said, slumping further into the couch.

"So you've said," Matthew said, seeming unconcerned.  "Either way, Francis has very specific sorts of flirting when it comes to Arthur.  It's more like pigtail pulling sometimes than suave like you might expect."

"So how can you tell that it's flirting?" Alfred asked, rolling his head over to look at his brother.

"Because there's a lot of touching that goes on while he's doing it," Matthew answered.

Cameron smirked, "And yet he still has his hands, which indicates that no matter how much Arthur swears at him about it he doesn't mind enough to make Francis actually stop."

"Jesus," Alfred said, considering that. "Really? That... I really don't want to think about that actually because... ew."

Cameron laughed at that, "Oh come on, laddie.  It's not all that bad."

"How is it not all bad?" he demanded.

"Because we're not thirteen and it's okay for our guardian to have a sex drive even if he doesn't think so?" Matthew offered.

"Ew, no," Alfred shuddered.

"Oh come on, do ye really think he's that frigid?  What do ye think Sadiq and he got up to?" Cameron drawled, smirking.

"Nothing that is any of your business," Arthur cut in from where he was leaning against the door frame.

"I try not to think about that either," Alfred said and looked over at Arthur. "I'm quite happy to think of you as quite frigid."

"So this is the sort of conversation you all have when I'm not around, this is enlightening," Arthur murmured, arching a thick eyebrow.

"We have to find our entertainment somewhere," Cameron responded with a grin which earned him a sharp rap on his shin from Arthur's cane as his brother passed him.

"Well, we started with teasing Alfred but that got us nowhere," Liam said, watching Arthur more warily than anyone else in the room.

"Hate you," Alfred muttered again.

Arthur snorted at that, considering the bookshelf at the far side of the room before selecting the volume he had come looking for, "I can't imagine it would go very far.  After all, one can only go over the same territory so many times," that was accompanied by a sharp look at his brother.

"It's not always the same territory, though," Matthew responded.

Alfred kicked him. Matthew yelped slightly at that and frowned, adjusting his position to be slightly more out of his brother's range.

"What do you mean it's not always the same territory," Alfred hissed and Liam had to hide his laugh behind his hand.

"I mean that we tease you about more than one thing, usually," Matthew replied, scowling slightly as he rubbed the place where Alfred had kicked him.

Pouting, Alfred leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at that, "You really ought to try not tormenting your brother so, Matthew."

"But if we don't, we only really have you to talk about," Matthew replied innocently.

"Can we go back to talking about him?" Alfred asked, leaning his head back again and sprawling out. "After all, you talked about me in front of him. Like how he and Francis flirt and Francis hasn't lost his hands yet or whatever you were saying."

Arthur blinked once and then arched an eyebrow, "Yes, let's do return to that topic.  I'm curious now."

Liam blinked once and shifted backward. "That was so not my topic."

Arthur shot a look to Cameron who held up his hands, "I came in midway through that one."

Arthur turned his attention to Matthew who shrugged, "All I did was put your names together in a sentence.  It grew from there."

"That wasn't all of it," Alfred protested. "You were saying they flirted and that Francis was pulling his pigtails. And touching without getting his hands cut off."

It was Matthew's turn to kick his brother as Arthur looked less and less pleased with the conversation.

"That's what _you_ said," Alfred protested, never quite capable of reading the atmosphere in a room.

"Yes, thank you, Alfred for recapping that _in front of Arthur_."  Matthew muttered. Alfred shrugged, and Liam sank further down in his chair.

Arthur looked between them all, "Well, this has been most enlightening.  If you all will excuse me, I'll be on my way.  I encourage you to all find lives of your own to entertain you and keep you out of mine."

"I wasn't the one saying it," Alfred protested again. "Besides, we have no life."

Arthur offered him a scathing look, but didn't say anything more as he exited.  Matthew had the good sense to look apologetic, though Cameron was assuredly holding back laughter.

"So I'm assuming I should not be here," Alfred said after a beat and looked over at Matthew.

"I don't see why you can't stay," Matthew replied quietly with a shrug.  "Arthur'll calm down eventually, he's just in denial right now."

"Oh I meant whether or not you were going to try and kill me," Alfred smirked.

"Considering it, but coming down on the side of 'not right now'," his brother answered with a smile.

"Okay, cool," Alfred said, flopping back down.

o-o-o

Lovino checked his sidearm.  He knew they were going to meet with the German House to discuss the terms of an alliance, but that didn't mean he intended to go in with his guard down.  He glanced up and blinked once when his brother came to a stop next to him, "What are you doing?"

Feliciano offered him a smile, "Antonio said I could come with you two."

"Are you telling me another lie?"

"Ask him yourself," came the easy response.

Lovino's jaw tensed and he nodded once before turning on his heel and going to find Antonio, "Feliciano says you've given permission for him to come along again."

"Ludwig likes him," Antonio replied from where he was standing next to the door. He had a cane in case he needed it but wasn't leaning on it yet.

"And that's cause for bringing Feliciano along to a meet?" Lovino's eyes narrowed.

Antonio paused, realizing he might well have walked himself into trouble. "The Germans are hardly out to get us," Antonio said. "It won't—it shouldn't be dangerous."

"You're using my brother to get an in with Ludwig.  And the Germans are currently all but at war with the _Russians_ ," Lovino's jaw tensed and he worked to keep his tone down, it wouldn't do to have this heard by the whole House.

Feliciano appeared behind his brother, "Fratello, I'll be fine.  You've taught me how to shoot straight if it comes to that."

"It's his choice to come or not," Antonio said, turning the cane over in his hand.

Lovino looked from one to the other and then growled something in Italian before nodding, "Fine.  It's his choice."

"And I choose to come," Feliciano insisted firmly.

Antonio watched Lovino for a long moment before shaking his head slightly and pushing the door open. "Come along then."

The twins glanced at each other before following Antonio out, Lovino the last one to leave, pulling the door firmly shut behind them.  He'd keep his thoughts to himself and be reasonable during the meet, but by God did he have a few succinct things running through his mind.

Before they reached the car Antonio ran a hand along Lovino's back, as if to acknowledge that he would probably be yelled at later. Stiffening at the touch, Lovino offered him a sideways glance and pulled away, settling behind the wheel of the car without a word.

Sighing, Antonio slid into the back seat with Feliciano.

Feliciano glanced at him, murmuring as Lovino pulled away, "I'm sorry.  He shouldn't stay mad for long."

"You're underestimating your brother," Antonio murmured back.

"He probably would have preferred warning that I was coming," Feliciano admitted.  "He'll yell and snarl, but he'll get over it."

"I hope so," Antonio sighed. His leg was finally healing and he could more around without worrying about pain. He'd frankly been looking forward to taking advantage of that, which would not work if Lovino was angry with him.

"Trust me," Feliciano advised.  "He's got a temper, but it burns hot and fast and stops sooner than you might think."

Antonio hummed, having been on the other side of that temper in the past but not really since they'd become lovers.

They pulled up to the place they were meeting the Germans a couple of minutes later, Lovino shutting off the car and getting out first, leaning against it and considering the facade before them.

Antonio considered it. "Huh," he managed, tilting his head slightly. "It's downright tasteful."

"You sound surprised," Feliciano said, coming around the car to join them.

"I'm always surprised when there's taste," Antonio replied with a vague laugh before pushing inside. Lovino grimaced at that before following Antonio, Feliciano a step behind him.

Glancing around, Antonio quickly found where Ludwig and Vash were sitting, in a small table out of the way but with good views of all the exits.

Lovino frowned when he saw the table.  It was in a perfectly neutral position and he understood the reasons because this was a meet, but something about that consideration rankled.  Feliciano elbowed his brother and shook his head, offering him a bit of a smile to prompt one from Lovino who just grimaced at him.

Glancing up as they approached, Ludwig's entire face opened up in surprise when he saw Feliciano and he coughed quickly to try and hide the reaction as Antonio slid into the seat across from him.

Feliciano settled on Antonio's left, offering Ludwig a slight smile as Lovino sat to Antonio's right.  Vash arched an eyebrow and glanced at Ludwig before turning his attention back to the Head of the Roman House.

"You're looking well," Ludwig managed, looking at Antonio instead of Feliciano.

"Been doing pretty well," Antonio replied. "You, however, sortta look terrible."

Ludwig winced but didn't disagree.

"Have you heard anything about your brother?" Feliciano asked softly, and earned a sharp glance from both Vash and Lovino for his trouble.

"Yes," Ludwig said and Antonio's eyes widened, leaning forward.

"What? You have? Where is he?"

"He's been kidnapped by Ivan, god knows why," Ludwig sighed. "Apparently he's injured enough that he can't walk but he says he's been treated well for no reason he could figure out."

"But he's alive," Antonio said, grinning widely and the corners of Ludwig's mouth twitched up.

"Thank goodness," Feliciano murmured.  Lovino's attention was on Antonio and his face had turned expressionless in the light of Antonio's response to Ludwig's news.

Turning his smile on Feliciano, Ludwig nodded, trying not to think about the way that particular phone call had ended. "Thank you. Though," he paused, glancing at where Lovino was sitting. "Due to a mix up, I no longer have the same phone, if you ever need to contact me."

Feliciano blinked rapidly at that, before rifling for a pencil and sliding a napkin across the table to Ludwig, ignoring the strangled sound Lovino made and the tensing of his shoulders which indicated he'd stopped himself from snatching the napkin off the table.  Vash's eyebrows rose and he glanced at Ludwig again.

Ludwig glanced sideways at Vash and shrugged before writing down the new number and Antonio buried his face behind his menu to not howl in laughter.

Taking back the napkin with a smile, Feliciano carefully folded it and slipped it into his pocket.  Lovino glanced at Antonio and bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the Head or his brother.

"So," Ludwig cleared his throat. "I believe we've talked by the phone over most of the alliance?"

"Mostly," Antonio agreed. "So would you rather food or business come first?"

"They can't happen simultaneously?" Vash asked.

Antonio made a face at him. "Ugh. You shouldn't mix business and pleasure like that." Ludwig snapped his eyes away from where they'd strayed to Feliciano.

Vash blinked twice at that, but inclined his head.  Feliciano spoke up, "Business and talk in general tends to work better after people eat, so if no one else is going to make the suggestion I would say food first."

Lovino managed not to say anything at that by picking up the menu and using it to act as a shield against the others.

"We could try food first then," Ludwig said, used to his grandfather who often handed out business and assignments over dinner.

"Do you have anything you'd recommend?" Feliciano asked, glancing at the menu and then over it to Ludwig.

"I'm not very good at food," Ludwig said quickly, remembering Feliciano's expression the last time at dinner. "I mostly eat potatoes and sausages which I admit is not the height of culinary tastes."

Lovino snorted quietly at that and Feliciano offered his brother a frown at that, but didn't say anything about it.  He glanced down at the menu and made a decision based on what was listed and what he figured he could remain neutral on, closing it and setting it aside, "I'm sure you've more taste than you think."

"I doubt it," Ludwig said, looking down and Antonio rolled his eyes from behind his menu that he was still using to hide behind.

Vash shook his head, glancing briefly at the menu before putting it aside and leaning back in his chair to better consider the table and the restaurant at large.

Finally Antonio dropped his own menu, glad to be out of the house again but suddenly unsure he wanted to be between Lovino and Feliciano. Someone finally came to fetch their orders and Antonio rested his elbows against the table, folding his arms. "So, Ludwig." Raising a brow, the blond glanced over at him. "I'm curious because of stories I've heard from your brother. Have you ever kissed someone?"

Lovino nearly choked on the drink of water he'd been taking, even as Feliciano blushed deeply at that question and murmured, "Antonio."

Ludwig coughed again. "That... once," he said instead, oddly choosing to answer and Antonio's brows went up. He was used to teasing Gilbert who was far more likely to throw something at him than answer.

Feliciano's eyes widened at that and his lips parted ever so slightly in an expression that his twin immediately recognized as him having been caught off-guard.  Lovino's eyes narrowed as he put those pieces together and he clenched his hands in his lap, the nails digging into his palms, to keep himself still.

"What about you?" Ludwig shot back and Antonio laughed it off, waving a hand.

"I don't have nearly so neat a number to give."

Feliciano had the urge to hit his head on the table at that.  If Lovino wasn't already mad at Antonio, that comment would have clinched it.

Ludwig blinked once, blushed, and looked happier than he could imagine when the first of the food arrived.

Feliciano breathed a soft sigh of relief at the sight of the food, though he winced at the violence with which Lovino utilized his knife and fork on the meal.  He supposed he should count it a stroke of good fortune that his brother wasn't saying anything at least.

Vash shook his head very slightly, wondering what Roderich would have made of the entire situation and then deciding that he didn't really want to know.

Sitting back, Antonio picked at his food, feeling like last time with Otho there had been less awkward than whatever they walked themselves into this time.

The meal passed with occasional attempts at stilted conversation, Feliciano trying to keep the silences from lengthening too much but usually subsiding after a few comments at a glance from Lovino.

"How is your painting going?" Ludwig asked, the silences enough to make him almost feel like he was going crazy. Gilbert, though irritating, at least often meant that something was being talked about.

Feliciano smiled at that question, "It's going well, I'm nearly done with my current project, just a few more details to add to it.  And then I'll see if I can get started on a new piece—it's going to probably be a style I haven't tried before, but I think it should work for the subject matter."

The corner of Ludwig's mouth twitched up. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, trying to match that up with what Feliciano had told him earlier.

"Really? Who's the painting of?" Antonio asked. "I didn't know you were doing a new painting."

Feliciano bit his lower lip before answering, "The one I'm finishing up is of you, actually."

Lovino nearly choked on his food at that, "What?"

"It's of Antonio.  It was your idea, Fratello."

Antonio was glad he hadn't been chewing anything or he would have choked like Lovino. "Of... me," he said and glanced sideways at Lovino. "On your idea?"

"I did not suggest that, I'm sure I didn't suggest that," Lovino replied, scowling at his brother.

"Not directly," Feliciano admitted.  "But you put the idea in my head.  And it's a good idea."

"Why is it a good idea?" Antonio asked and Ludwig could feel the corners of his mouth twitch again.

"Because, not to brag, I can convey what I want to in my paintings and if this isn't a visual representation of the fact that I consider you the rightful leader of the House I'll burn my easel, and use my oil paints as accelerant," Feliciano answered, nodding firmly.

"Oh," Antonio said and then grinned. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, it's not done," Feliciano said with a bit of a smile.

"I'm sure it'll be a sight to behold," Antonio said, glancing at Ludwig to make sure the Germans weren't bothered by the conversation to see him smiling fondly at Feliciano. "Say, I don't think I've ever seen if you've painted Lovino."

"I did," Feliciano admitted, but backtracked when he caught his brother's eye.  "It...it didn't turn out."

Ludwig ducked his head down and Antonio frowned. "I can't imagine why not," he said but let it drop rather than press either of them."

"Maybe I'll try again," Feliciano offered. Lovino made a sound that resembled a negation of that idea and shook his head once in the hope of cutting off that thought. 

Eyebrow arching, Vash looked between the twins before looking to Feliciano, "You do portrait work then?"

"Sometimes.  Not all the time, but sometimes."

"I would like to see it sometime," Ludwig said, having enjoyed the descriptions he had been given.

That gained a smile from Feliciano, "I'd like for you to."

"Then I look forward to it," Ludwig said and Antonio glanced sideways at Lovino.

Lovino was studiously paying attention to what was left of his meal, though he was less eating it and more massacring it with his fork.

Antonio finally realized the greatest problem with finally being able to leave the house since he got shot and lured Lovino into his bed and it was that he hadn't been faced with a Lovino he couldn't touch. He couldn't lean over and whisper something into Lovino's ear or caress him until he stopped frowning so much. Instead he poked his own food, before dropping his fork and leaning back, crossing his hands over his stomach.

Finally setting his fork down, Lovino dropped his hands to his lap to keep from fidgeting.  He wanted a smoke, or something, anything that didn't have him seated at that table listening to his brother and the Head of the German House.

Vash glanced around the table, speaking mutedly, "Business then?"

"We have surprisingly quiet bodyguards," Antonio said, smiling at Ludwig who blinked.

"I suppose so at that."

Antonio wanted to say something about coaxing noise out of either of them and decided that Lovino looked murderous enough without teasing him. "Business then."

As Antonio and Ludwig had been talking throughout the week, the discussion went quickly enough, mostly saying that the alliance did not yet stretch to Ludwig's other allies, but that the Houses would support each other and share information.

Once the agreement was reached and it appeared they were ready to go their separate ways, Lovino rose to his feet, resting a hand on the back of his chair but preparing to turn and leave in short order.  The less time he was around anyone currently at the table the happier he would be.

Antonio glanced back at him and then at Ludwig before rising. "Thank you," he said, inclining his head and Ludwig smiled at him with an incline of his own head.

Feliciano paused before getting to his feet and offering Ludwig a smile, "Take care."

"You as well," Ludwig said, eyes getting warmer and Antonio tried not to laugh at such an obvious emotion. It just looked more odd on Ludwig's face.

The younger Italian's smile brightened at that, even as his brother's expression darkened.  Lovino turned to head for the door, lighting a cigarette the second they were outside.

Trailing after him, Antonio stretched his arms up, still carrying the cane he'd brought though his leg had not given him trouble. "What is it, Lovino?" he asked, fingers itching to steal the cigarette.

Lovino kept a careful hold on his death stick, not trusting Antonio to let him finish it himself, "Nothing.  Let's get back to the house."

"You don't want dessert first?" Antonio asked, both wanting to get behind a door without others watching and desperate to stay out a little longer after being in the house all week.

"No," Lovino replied curtly.

"But, Lovi—" Feliciano started, earning a growl from his brother as they reached the car.

"No?" Antonio asked, putting a hand out so Lovino couldn't open the car door. "Do you get to decide that?" he asked.

"You asked if I wanted dessert, not whether I was making that decision for all of us," Lovino snapped, dropping the remainder of his cigarette and grinding it out with the toe of his shoe.

Antonio drew back, carefully not sighing. "We'll go home," he said instead.

Feliciano almost protested that, but decided that considering the state the others were both in that heading home was probably a better plan.  Lovino pulled the door of the car open and slid behind the wheel.

Antonio closed his door for him and slid into the back with Feliciano. "I’m sure there's something at home," he said quietly.

"I know there is," Feliciano agreed softly as Lovino started the car and pulled away, "But you've been trapped in the house for days now."

"I'm fine," Antonio said brightly.

Feliciano didn't look like he believed that, but he didn't protest, turning his attention out the window. Antonio clearly didn't believe it either, leaning back against the seat.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, Lovino pulling into the garage and getting out of the car.  He slammed the door and headed toward the main house without waiting for the other two.

For a moment Antonio didn't move before he sighed and followed. "Lovi," he called after him.

Lovino paused and turned enough to look over his shoulder at the older man, "What?"

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up and down the hallway before reaching out to touch Lovino's cheek, sliding toward his hair. "What's gotten you so angry?"

Tilting back away from the touch, Lovino scowled, "Nothing."

"Lovino," he sighed. "I know it's not nothing."

"Well where do you want me to start?  With the fact that you gave the fucking heir, at the time, of the German House my brother's phone number?  I'm gonna assume it was you because I know Feliciano didn't give it to him last time they would have had the chance," Lovino snarled.

"Alright, we can start there," Antonio said, inclining his head and starting to shuffle Lovino upstairs to his room so there would be a door between whatever yelling was about to happen and the others. "But I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have some idea of Ludwig's character, or that your brother was perfectly capable of saying yes or no to him as he wished. Clearly he wanted Ludwig's number tonight."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you did it in the first place," Lovino snapped, digging his heels in slightly when they reached Antonio's room.  He paused before pushing his way into the room and positioning himself a distance from Antonio and from the bed.

Antonio considered his position and sighed before flopping down on a wide and low couch, propping his leg up on it. "And why doesn't it? Because you would like to lock Feliciano up and never let him out again? Isn't that a little unfair, considering," he said and gestured between them.

"Don't you dare.  We're at least in the same goddamn House!"

"And we've not been fighting with the Germans," Antonio said. "And with luck, we never will. But it's hardly more dangerous to love someone outside than inside."

Lovino's eyes narrowed, "So you're telling me to, what?  Be glad my brother's gone doe-eyed for the Head of the German House?"

"No," Antonio shook his head. "Not jumping up and down happy, certainly not. I fully expect you won't be happy until Ludwig proves himself if he's capable of such a thing to you." He wanted to add that he wasn't stupid damn it, and didn't dare. "But it was going to happen. They might be happy. They might not be. But it's up to them not you or me."

"What part of 'I don't want Feliciano hurt' did you miss after the last goddamn meet?" Lovino snapped, starting to pace.

"You can't protect him from everything," Antonio said softly. "Especially not something like this."

"I can do my best, but not if I _don't know what's going on_!"

Antonio leaned back, letting his head rest against the arm of the couch. "Alright. But I currently don't really know more than you."

"You knew they'd been in contact," he snapped before he paled.  "Fuck, that's where Feli would have heard about Otho.  Son of a bitch he was out with the _heir_ that night!"

"In my defense I had no idea that was going on," Antonio said. "And I certainly would never have expected Ludwig to move that quickly."

"Which makes it all so much better," Lovino muttered, turning his back to Antonio and staring out the window as he tried to rein his temper in, but felt it slipping through his grasp like sand in an hourglass.

"It's nothing to get angry with me over," Antonio frowned. "What else is it?"

"Nothing," Lovino muttered.

Antonio hauled himself back to his feet, moving over until he was behind Lovino. "What is it?" he repeated. "You implied that Feliciano was just the first of several issues."

Looking at Antonio briefly in the reflection on the glass, Lovino side-stepped so as not to end up trapped before he turned to face the other with his face clear of expression, "What is it between you and Gilbert?"

Antonio blinked in confusion at him, feeling like the question had come from left field and he couldn't understand it. "What?" he said and shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked," Lovino responded, his voice tense.

"Between us," Antonio repeated. "We go drinking, usually with Francis. We're friends, that—" he paused, suddenly realizing what Lovino was asking and barely managed not to burst out in laughter. "Are you _jealous_?" he asked instead, which in hindsight was still a stupid thing to say.

Lovino tensed, his jaw tightening, "No."

"Because you shouldn't be," Antonio said, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "Gilbert is a good friend, and I care about what happens to him. But," he finally couldn't stop from laughing but pulled it in quickly. "I would never... he's obnoxious and..." The more he tried to find words for Gilbert the more he realized they could be applied to Lovino and decided against pursuing that because they were hardly the same. "I'm fairly certain he's a virgin anyway so it's not like I've ever slept with him."

That earned him a scowl, "Could have said the same about me not too long ago."

He sighed, shoulders drooping. "Yes, I suppose you could. But you aren't the same. I don't feel for him what I feel about you. I'm happy he's alive because he's my friend."

"Never anything more?" Lovino didn't look inclined to believe that.

"No!" Antonio snapped. "Lovino, if you went missing and I couldn't find you I would burn down the entire city, block by block until I found you." He took a step forward, sliding his hands around Lovino's waist. "Do you currently see me doing that?"

Lovino went rigid at that contact, starting to believe Antonio but still fuming about his brother.  He knew that wasn't entirely Antonio's fault, but the Spaniard was someone he could direct that ire toward, "No I don't."

Antonio started rubbing small circles with his fingertips, drawing Lovino closer despite how stiff he'd gotten. "I love you, not anyone else," he said softly.

Lovino's hands moved to rest on Antonio's chest to keep space between them, "So you keep saying."

"When are you going to believe me?" Antonio countered.

"I don't know," Lovino answered, tersely.  He had almost said 'never' but had caught himself in time.

"Then I'll keep saying it," Antonio shrugged his shoulders.

"Even if it makes me uncomfortable to hear it?"

"Does it?" Antonio asked, sounding tired suddenly and like Lovino had just torn at his heart.

Lovino grit his teeth, and nodded, "I don't understand why, so yes it damn well does."

With a deep sigh, Antonio reached down, taking Lovino's hand with both of his and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. "Lovi, I don't think I can fight for you."

Lovino's eyes widened and he backed up a step, pulling his hand away from Antonio and trying to retreat, "What?"

Antonio didn't follow him. "I'll tell you I love you every day, I'll follow you anywhere and I'd kiss you whenever you'd let me. But if I do more," he paused, looking at the ceiling. "If I push too hard I feel like I'm forcing you. And I can't, Lovi, I can't force you." His eyes dropped back down. "Because I'd like nothing more than to claim you, to tie you down and only let you back up when I've convinced you. But I can't. We're already too fragile and if I fight too hard, if I want too much..."

Backing up another step, Lovino shook his head, "And what, me asking why is too much for you to answer?  Too much of a fight? I can't just set aside my fucking insecurities because you say you love me."  His eyes darted toward the bed and Antonio's answer to the question of how many people he'd kissed echoed in his mind, causing him to tear his gaze away to focus on the wall to Antonio's left.

"Were you asking me why I loved you?" Antonio asked after a beat. "I thought I'd told you that before." He paused taking another step forward. "Were you asking me to try it again?"

Lovino held his ground, but refused to meet Antonio's eyes, "I'm saying your answers don't make sense.  Forget it."

Antonio considered him for a moment before sweeping him up, lifting his feet off the ground.

Lovino startled at that, his hands moving to brace against Antonio's shoulders, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Just grinning at him, Antonio dropped him onto the bed, crawling after him to brace himself above the other. "When I said I couldn't fight for you, I meant it but not, I think, in the way you thought."

Blinking up at him, Lovino frowned as he felt his anger melt into confusion, "Then, then what did you mean?"

"I can't force you to do a thing," Antonio said. "If you hesitate at that door I can't bring myself to ask you to come in. You've been angry with me all night, and you yelled at me for saying that I love you because it makes you uncomfortable." He paused again, trying to think how to put what he wanted into words.

The younger man gaped at him, "Are you serious? I've been angry that you _didn't tell me about Feliciano_. I don't understand why you love me, but I know you do."  He pushed lightly on Antonio's shoulders before curling his hands in the fabric of the other's shirt to keep him from pulling away, "If I hesitate it could be for any number of reasons—like not wanting to yell at you in a room we share part time."

"Then I'm still trying to figure out the boundaries," Antonio said, shifting down to kiss Lovino's neck. "When you're angry and I can push and when I need not to. I can't risk this."

Lovino tilted his head back, "You think a fight's going to risk this?"  He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, "Antonio, I lose my temper.  It's what I do."

"No, I can't risk this by forcing you," Antonio said, frustrated that he still wasn't saying it right. "If I push when I can't and you..." he sat back, hands on Lovino's chest. “You were right when you said that I controlled too much of your life, and Feliciano's. I have power over you and it worries me. It worries me because I want to fight, I want to push, I _want_ to tie you down to this bed sometimes and never let you go again. But I can't, and it scares me how much I want those things."

Lovino levered himself up on his elbows to better look at Antonio, " _That_ 's what this is about?  Fuck, Antonio, you've got power, but do you really think I'd let you do anything I didn't want?"

"I don't think you understand," Antonio said. "Just how strongly I want to tie you down and never let anyone else see you again some days."

"I don't know what to say to that.  You're right, I don't, but Antonio, I trust you," Lovino said, almost unable to believe he'd actually said that.  The idea of trusting someone, even Antonio, was so far beyond what he thought he was capable of that he froze.

For a long moment, Antonio didn't move either before surging forward, slamming their mouths together and Lovino back against the bed. Startling, it took Lovino a moment to respond to the kiss, but he pressed up into it, one hand moving to tangle in Antonio's hair as the other wrapped around the taller man's waist and pulled him down further against him.

Antonio drew back, sliding his mouth along Lovino's cheek to his jaw. "Was there anything else?" he asked. "That you were angry about tonight?"

Lovino focused his gaze on the ceiling over the bed, "Your answer when Ludwig turned your question back on you."

Antonio shifted through the conversation. "The one about how many times he'd kissed someone?"

"That one, yeah."

He cocked his head to one side. "How on earth did that make you angry?"

Lovino stared at him for a long moment before pushing against him so he could sit up a bit, "Why wouldn't it?"

Antonio paused, actively trying to figure out his answer from Lovino's perspective. "The question was how many times I've kissed someone," he said finally. "Not how many _people_ I've kissed." He cocked his head again. "I've already lost count of the number of times I've kissed you."

He felt his cheeks heat up at that as he realized he'd misunderstood, "Oh."

"I have kissed other people," Antonio said, not wanting to hide that. "But those I could count more easily if I felt like it."

"Please don't," Lovino responded, laying back down and pulling Antonio with him.

"They weren't very many," Antonio said. "The people, I mean," he nuzzled against Lovino's throat before suddenly shooting back up, something Lovino had said earlier registering finally in his mind. "Wait—when you compared yourself to Gilbert—"

Lovino sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, "What?"

"Were..." Antonio paused. "You said the same could have been said about you right after I said he was probably a virgin. Were you?" he asked, voice dropping as the thought, perhaps oddly, had never occurred to him.

"Does it matter?" Lovino asked, hedging.

"Maybe not," Antonio said after a moment but he was frowning enough to imply that it did.

Lovino paused before reaching up and brushing his fingers against Antonio's cheek and answered honestly, "I was."

"Jesus Christ," Antonio managed, burying his head in Lovino's shoulder.

"Is that...a bad thing?" Lovino asked.

Antonio sucked in a deep breath and didn't move. "I don't know. I didn't... I should have thought that one through. I... I wish that I had known so that I might have been more gentle that time."

"Well, there's no changing that now.  I thought you knew."

"No," Antonio said, turning his head to kiss Lovino's shoulder before pushing himself back up on his arms again, considering Lovino spread out beneath him.

Lovino looked up at him, stretching as much as he could in his position, "Is it a problem?"

Part of Antonio wanted to say that yes it was, because it was enough of a sin, let alone to have taken a virgin but he swallowed that back and shook his head. "No. No problem." Sitting back he trailed both his hands down Lovino's sides, smiling.

Not looking like he entirely believed that, Lovino let it go and arched at Antonio's touch and offered the other man a hint of a smile in return.

"You asked why I love you," Antonio said, unbuttoning Lovino's shirt and repeating the stroking motion once he could push the fabric aside.

Lovino drew an unsteady breath at that, "Yes?"

"This will take a while," Antonio said, pushing himself back and off the bed, kneeling down and starting to untie Lovino's shoes and pull them off. "Do you have any idea what you look like when you're firing a gun?"

Propping himself up on his elbows to look at Antonio in confusion, he shook his head, "I can't say that I do..."

"You're so gorgeous it's alarming," Antonio said, kissing his ankle before running his hands up and down his calves. "You're beautiful the rest of the time too, don't get me wrong. But when you've got a gun in your hand... you focus. You're confident and precise and it's so unbelievably hot to watch you with all that confidence. I got yelled at," he admitted. "By your grandfather. Because whenever you were at the range I would miss all my targets and all but fall flat on my face."

"Y-you're serious?"  The muscles in Lovino's legs quivered very slightly at the unfamiliar touch even as they started to relax.

"You must think I'm the worst shot in the world," Antonio laughed. "I noticed you looking at me a couple times, fairly disgusted with my performance. I have a much better aim," he said, shifting up and kissing the top of Lovino's thigh. "When I'm not watching you."

Lovino's breath hitched, "You'll have to prove it to me."

Antonio laughed, shifting his hands underneath Lovino's legs and stroking down. "Sometime. I love you because of how protective of your brother you are."

He twitched away very slightly when Antonio brushed the back of his knee, the sensation more than he was expecting, "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Why?" Antonio asked, tracing his fingers against the back of his knee again after a beat.

Breath hitching as his nerves tried to decide if the sensation was ticklish or something delightful, Lovino shook his head, "Y-you love me because I'm selfish e-enough to want to keep Feliciano around forever?"

"I'd like you keep me around forever," Antonio laughed. "But you want to protect him, and it's admirable."

"I'd like to keep you around forever," Lovino replied before he thought about it.

"Thank god," Antonio murmured, kissing his knee and leaning up to unbuckle his belt. "I also love you because you're a sarcastic little shit and I find that immensely appealing."

"And you sound surprised when I tell you you're crazy," Lovino muttered, letting his head fall back, exposing his neck.

Antonio glanced up, noticing that but remaining where he was. "Hips up," he murmured, pushing at Lovino to get his pants off. "I like that in your sarcasm, in your anger, at least you're honest. Do you know how many unhonest people there are?"

Lovino followed the direction, closing his eyes and focusing on Antonio's words and the sensations, "We live in a city of liars, so a lot of them."

"Lots," Antonio agreed. "And I love you for not being one of us."

"It's not smart to be honest in this city," Lovino murmured, looking at Antonio again.

"Not very," Antonio agreed. "But it makes you even more beautiful."

Lovino looked uncertain at that, "The words you use have massive meaning.  Are, are you sure they're meant to?"

Antonio cocked his head to one side, running his fingers down Lovino's thighs and behind his knees now there were no pants in the way. "How do you mean?" he asked, not wanting to take anything Lovino asked for granted considering everything that had been said. He leaned down to kiss the top of Lovino's leg.

Shuddering at the touch, the muscles in his leg shivering, Lovino drew a deep breath before answering, "I mean, I mean words like 'beautiful'.  It's a big word."

"You are so gorgeous I can't breathe sometimes," Antonio said promptly. "Yes, I do think I know exactly what I mean to say when I call you that."

Lovino blinked at him for a long moment, trying to wrap his mind around that before he gave up on that endeavor.

Huffing out a breath, Antonio leaned forward, pushing Lovino's undershirt up and licking his navel. "Why don't you think you're beautiful?"

His mind blanking at that contact, it took Lovino a long moment before he caught up with what Antonio asked, "Because I'm...because I'm me."

Antonio looked at him for a long moment. "Has someone ever told you you weren't beautiful?" he asked, because if that was true he had someone to hurt.

"Not directly?" Lovino offered.

"Who?" Antonio demanded, pressing his fingers into Lovino's hips and dragging them down.

"It was years ago," the younger man protested.

"Who?" Antonio repeated, not quite growling but something flaring behind his eyes.

Lovino's jaw tensed, "Why does it matter?"

"Because I want to know," Antonio said, kissing the jut of Lovino's hipbone, drawing down the band of his underwear to reach it. "Won't you tell me?"

Lovino's breath stuttered at that, "The first guy I kissed."

Antonio froze, suddenly glad that Lovino had admitted to being a virgin before jealousy clawed its way out of his throat. "Bastard," Antonio growled. "Who did you let kiss you?"

"I barely remember that he had green eyes, you think I remember his name?" Lovino asked, incredulous.

"He had green eyes?" Antonio asked.

Lovino nodded once, "Yes, he did.  Wrong color hair though."

"Were you trying to kiss someone who looked like me?" Antonio blurted out before he could stop himself.

That earned a blush as the younger man looked away and muttered his reply, "Of course not, don't be stupid."

"Really?" Antonio murmured instead, voice dropping.

"It's not like I could have kissed you then."

"Why not?" Antonio asked, shifting forward again to finally lick his way back up to Lovino's throat.

Lovino drew a shaky breath, "I may not have been his, his favorite, but do you know what Grandfather would have done to you?"

"Killed me probably," Antonio rolled his shoulders. "Was that why?"

"Partly," Lovino nodded.  "The other part was there was no way in hell I was going to admit that to you."

"But look at all the benefits you get from it," Antonio said, shifting over to seal their mouths together.

Lovino moaned softly into Antonio's mouth, arching to press up against the other man.

"So what did that bastard say to you?" Antonio asked, shifting back to card his hands though Lovino's hair. He avoided the curl for the moment, paying more attention to the way the strands looked and felt against his hands.

How he was still forming coherent thoughts, Lovino wasn't certain, "It wasn't anything specific.  I just...wasn't his type." Though apparently Feliciano had been, but no one in their right mind went after Vargas' favorite grandson.

Antonio wanted to press further, wanted to get angry, but he was also relieved that there was no man he'd have to fight for Lovino. "I love that you're my type," he said into Lovino's ear instead.

Shuddering at that, Lovino pressed up against Antonio, his pupils blown wide with desire, "S-so do I."

"Have I come close to answering why I love you?" Antonio asked.

"Y-yes.  Yes, you-you have."

"Thank god," Antonio said, almost a possessive growl. "Because while I also love watching you ride me I'd really like to pound you into the mattress tonight." He twisted one of his hands, pulling on the curl.

Gasping, Lovino tried to gather his thoughts as that just about sent him over the edge, "God, yes, please Antonio."

"I love you," Antonio grinned as he leaned down for another kiss. Pressing up into the kiss, desperation tingeing the motion, Lovino tried to answer with that, not trusting himself to say anything out loud. More than willing to wait, Antonio grinned again, finally taking the time to explore he hadn't had when he was injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys get an extra long chapter this update. Antonio's scene is, I swear to God, just about 15 pages in word so it was going to be a short chapter (coming in at around 14 pages) or a long one. So you get a long one because fucking Antonio. He is a very pushy muse.


	9. Laughter of the Sort That Comes With Hysteria

Several days after his ribs had been broken again, Gilbert woke up to find Ivan pushing the door open. He felt himself tense as he hadn't seen the other since borrowing his phone.

"Good morning," Ivan said, tone bright as ever.

"Morning," Gilbert mumbled back, pulling himself into a sitting position and watching the other warily. He thought it was probable that he was supposed to ask how the other was doing, or some other social bullshit but he couldn't figure out how to get the words out.

Ivan however just smiled. "I thought you might like to spend some time out of this room," he said and Gilbert would have jumped out of the bed if he could.

"Yes!" he said and realized that much eagerness was probably a bad thing to reveal and swallowed hard. "That, uh, would be nice."

Moving to where the crutches still were, Ivan brought them over as Gilbert wobbled himself to sit at the edge of the bed. Ivan helped him up and made sure he was balancing on the crutches, before stepping back. "Does it hurt?" he asked and Gilbert's head snapped up, anger flaring in his eyes before he pushed it back down.

"Pain doesn't," he started and stopped, deciding against saying it didn't matter. "It's fine," he said instead, dropping his gaze and Ivan tilted his head, unsure what to do with that sort of an answer.

Though he still looked oddly curious, he walked next to Gilbert down the hallway outside of his room. Gilbert hated how hard it was and how out of shape it made him feel to clatter around and feel tired barely a few doors down. He looked around at the blue walls with ornate doors, without trying to look like he was surveying the place. It was honestly curiosity about the house that was so different from his own rather than trying to scout out his location but any knowledge was better than nothing.

"Why did you call your brother?" Ivan asked and Gilbert nearly tripped over himself and the crutches.

"What do you mean?" he asked instead, focusing far too hard on where to put his feet.

"Why did you call him?" Ivan asked, looking over at him. "You said yourself you have no information to pass along, why take the risk of being found out?"

Gilbert stopped moving, trying to process the mindset that would ask such a question. "It's not about... I wanted to talk to him," he said. "I wanted to make sure he knew I was alive because I figured you wouldn't have told him." He started moving forward again, hating the way Ivan had stopped with him and was still watching him. "I wanted to hear his voice," he added, not watching Ivan's expression.

It took Ivan a moment before he moved again. Without asking more he stopped at one of the doors, pushing it open to the salon where he would often do paperwork, though he had no desk there for Gilbert to snoop through. Gilbert for his part collapsed happily on the couch by the window.

"I thought," Ivan started and looked oddly unsure. "That a change might be... nice."

"It's awesome," Gilbert said, too happy to be out of bed and looking out a large window to be anything but honest. Looking surprised, Ivan sat down at one of the armchairs, checking several things on his phone.

A knock came at the door to alert Ivan of someone's presence before it was pushed open and a woman, not much older than the Head of the House, with short blond hair and an impressively sized chest entered, "Broth—" she paused when she saw Gilbert, looking torn between coming further in and leaving again, "I didn't realize that there was someone else in here.  I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," Ivan said and Gilbert's jaw dropped a bit as he stared at her chest. That seemed to peeve Ivan but he didn't say anything, watching his sister instead. "It's perfectly fine."

Yekaterina touched her hairclip self-consciously as she caught Gilbert staring, but turned her attention back to Ivan.  She was just glad she'd long since given up on button-down shirts, the gaps and popped buttons always caused even more stares. "I was coming to see if there was anything special you wanted for lunch today?"

Ivan started to say no, glanced at Gilbert and seemed to pause. Finally having snapped his eyes away from Yekaterina chest he blinked in surprise over at Ivan.

"No, I don't think so, thank you sister," Ivan said, giving her a wide and vacant smile.

She nodded uncertainly at that expression, "I'll go let Toris know that then?"

"If you could," Ivan said and Gilbert paused, unsure if he was allowed to talk to other people or not but feeling more rude than usual to not introduce himself.

"Do you want me to let the others know he is in here, or not?" Yekaterina asked, glancing briefly at Gilbert before looking back to her younger brother.

Ivan asked at Gilbert and he got a scowl back. "If you like. I don't think it matters."

"I'll let them know if they need to," she finally decided with a slight nod and turned to go.

Watching the door close, Gilbert let his head flop back. "Can I ask a question?"

"You already did," Ivan said, flipping through his correspondence on the phone, frowning slightly at how small the text was. "But I suppose so."

"How much am I allowed to talk to other people?" Gilbert asked, hating that it was a question.

Ivan blinked over in surprise. "As much as you like, I suppose," he said. "Within limits, of course. No business."

"Of course not," Gilbert said, one arms going to support his head on the arm of the couch as he looked from the ceiling to the windows.

The door opened again a few minutes later to admit a younger woman, her platinum blond hair worn long and held back by a black ribbon headband.  She frowned when she saw Gilbert, but didn't say anything as she looked from him to Ivan and back before sitting down near the door and setting to work on sharpening a pair of knives.

Gilbert stared over at her in shock and alarm, twitching back slightly. It wasn't just the knives that scared him either.

"Natalia," Ivan sighed. "What are you doing?"

"Yekaterina is fluttering and the others start stammering when I am around."  She looked up at her brother, "And I like it in here."

"I'm glad," Ivan said and frowned. "There is a guest here."

"I saw him," she acknowledged.

He stared at her. "That's not very kind, Natalia," he said and Gilbert tried not to laugh at how crazy that sounded coming from Ivan.

She blinked at her brother for a long moment, trying to figure out what he meant before she looked at Gilbert, "Natalia Braginski.  And you're Gilbert Beilschmidt, yes?"

"Yeah huh?" he managed. "Nice, uh, knives you got there. Very shiny."

The smile she gave him was almost predatory, "They're very sharp too."

"I don't doubt it," Gilbert managed, and Ivan sighed again.

"Be nice, Natalia," he said, not wanting to add she wasn't allowed to harm Gilbert in front of the other man.

"That was nice," she insisted.  "I didn't offer to show him."

"If I ever get a say, I'm turning that offer down, hands down," Gilbert said, holding his hands up. "Not actually a kink of mine." Ivan gave him an odd look that Gilbert couldn't understand except that it certainly wasn't a smile.

Natalia's eyebrows rose slightly at that, but she turned back to her knives again, "It would hardly be for a 'kink'."

He sighed, the joke not meaning to have been taken literally—even if it was true. "So, uh, are you Ivan's sister then?"

She nodded once, "The younger one."

"The younger," Gilbert nodded, assuming the woman from earlier was the elder. They all had pale hair but otherwise he could not wrap his head around them being siblings. "Good... to know."

Natalia tilted her head to one side and considered him, much like a cat does a mouse that it has trapped, "Is it?"

Gilbert glanced at Ivan. "Sure. I mean, the more information the better or something?"

Eyes narrowing slightly, she nodded.  "Your turn.  You've learned my name.  But I already knew yours.  And you know I am Ivan's sister.  What have you to give in the way of information in exchange for that?"

He startled, shifting and wincing. "What do you want to know then?" he asked, not sure he wanted to open that door but unsure what on earth he could offer that might stop her from stabbing him.

"You have a brother, right?"  She asked, looking down at her knives again

Gilbert tensed, looking like he was considering lunging over at her, injuries or not, knives or no. "What about him?" he ground out instead. Ivan had stopped trying to pay attention to the e-mail he was trying to read.

"Do you get along with him?"

"Yes," Gilbert replied, the answer that simple to him. Ivan glanced over at his sister, wondering if there would ever have been a time he would risk injury or death just to hear her voice and couldn't actually imagine it.

She blinked rapidly at him, "Are you telling me the truth?"

"Uh, yeah?" Gilbert said. "He's my baby brother and I'd do anything in the world for him."

Natalia looked taken aback by that, surprise evident in the way she leaned back in her chair, dark blue eyes widening very slightly, "Are all Germans like you?"

Gilbert actually laughed, even though it hurt when he thought about the sheer fear he felt that his grandfather was going to kill him for misunderstanding his loyalty. "No," he said. "Though Vash and Lili are close too."

"You are very strange," she responded, tilting her head on one side again.

"Uh huh," Gilbert agreed, considering that she was sharpening knives.

"Why do you feel like that about him?"  She asked, confused.

"How do you mean?" he asked in confusion. "Because I do. It's just the way it is."

"But _why_?"

"Because he's my brother and I love him," Gilbert said, confused by how much she was pressing and he missed the way Ivan was still smiling but had almost crushed his phone in one hand, eyes wary as he watched Natalia.

She blinked as she processed that new information and then nodded, "Oh.  Alright."  She turned her attention back to honing the edge of her knife.

"Alright?" Gilbert asked warily.

"Are you sleeping with your brother?" Ivan asked, a little too sudden.

For a long moment Gilbert didn't move, though he'd tensed again. "What," he said, voice so flat it wasn't even a question.

"It's a simple question," Natalia asked, her gaze moving to her brother in some surprise that he'd actually asked it.

Ivan, for his part, was looking like he wished he had not asked, corners of his eyes pinched and Gilbert still hadn't moved. "It's not a simple question," he growled. "It... it... how sick _are_ you to ask something like that?" he demanded and the corners of Ivan's eyes tightened more.

Natalia's hand clenched tightly around the hilt of one of her knives and she quickly shoved them into their sheathes before she was tempted to use them.

Eyes catching that motion, Gilbert looked over and felt something horrible in his stomach before looking back at Ivan. "That is, I mean," he said, suddenly desperate to backtrack. He'd always known his mouth would get him in trouble but not quite like this.

"It would explain some of your reactions," Ivan said, shrugging his shoulders, having set his phone carefully down before he snapped the plastic and metal in half.

Gilbert almost ground his teeth in frustration and anger. "No, no it wouldn't. I am perfectly capable of loving someone without sleeping with them." He didn't add that he'd known him since Ludwig had been a tiny but serious kid with glasses and skinned knees as he tried to keep up with Gilbert.

"How?" Natalia frowned, somewhere between confusion and the dangerous edge of her temper.

"Did you just...?" Gilbert gaped at her and he noticed how Ivan's hands had tightened on the arm of his chair. "You think you can't love someone without sleeping with them?"

Natalia never took her eyes off of him as she brushed a piece of hair away from her face, "Isn't that how love works?"

"No," Gilbert protested. "You love someone because you want them to be happy, because you like their smile and you want to see them grow strong. I mean," he stumbled. "Sure, there are people who it might also be nice to sleep with but... Don't you," he started and didn't dare ask if she loved her bother. "Love your sister?"

She seemed to consider the question for a moment before she wrinkled her nose, "Not really. If she's happy she's happy, if she's not she's not.  It is not my concern."

Gilbert paused, wondering if he really dared ask the next question. "Is there anyone you do love then?"

"Ivan," she answered without having to think about it.

Gilbert actually felt a shudder go down his spine and he looked over at where Ivan was no longer smiling. His entire body was tense and he wasn't looking over at his sister. Suddenly the question didn't seem so insulting even if it still disturbed him or made him want to scream. "Anyone else?" Gilbert asked, almost hoping so.

The look Ivan gave him was dark.

Natalia shrugged very slightly, but shook her head, "All others are idiots."

Gilbert blinked and looked at Ivan again who'd barely moved. "Alright," he managed.

The door opened to reveal Yekaterina again, "Natalia!  There you are."  She looked toward Ivan and then to their sister again, "You're supposed to be helping me today, remember?"

"Do what?"

"We were working in the vegetable garden today, remember?" The elder sister reminded.

Natalia grimaced, but rose and slipped out of the room.  Yekaterina watched her go before turning back to Ivan with wide eyes, "I'm sorry, I lost track of her."

"It's quite alright," Ivan said, body and tone still tense and Gilbert couldn't really remember not seeing him smile unless he was doing extreme violence—and even then it had been a toss-up between smiling and not.

His older sister looked ready to apologize again, but finally nodded, "I'll try to keep her away for the rest of the day.  I can ask the General too, if you would like?"

"It's fine," Ivan said instead. "And Winter is out today. But," he paused, and added more quietly, "Thank you."

"Always, Ivan," she murmured, glancing at Gilbert once before slipping out.

For a long moment neither of them spoke until Ivan rose, moving around to fuss over the sunflowers he had on the side table, rearranging them for no real reason. "Well," Gilbert said finally, looking at the ceiling. "That certainly explains a bit more about why you couldn't understand me calling Ludwig." Even as a child his brother had hated nicknames and Gilbert had accommodated him—but never Roderich.

Ivan let out a breath, the sound frustrated. "Da," he said, lifting one of the sunflowers and just looking at it.

"Do you love her too?" Gilbert asked, neck stretched over the arm of the couch and Ivan's head whipped over.

He was quiet long enough that Gilbert lifted his head to look at him. "Not like she thinks she loves me," Ivan said finally. "I don't... I don't understand it really."

Gilbert dropped his head again. "Why do you like sunflowers so much anyway?"

Ivan froze again, looking down at the one he was holding. "They make me feel happy," he said finally, not sure why he was answering the question. "Like the sun or warmth. They're beautiful flowers."

As he spoke, Gilbert pushed up again to look at him, eyes wide at the expression on Ivan's face. Compared to what he looked like when he saw his sisters, or the vacant smile or the sheer fury Gilbert had seen before his eyes actually looked soft.

A hesitant knock came at the door, though it didn’t open immediately for the first time all morning.

Both the men looked over, startling slightly. "Yes?" Ivan called, dropping the sunflower back in the vase and returning to the chair.

Toris stepped in, closing the door softly behind himself, "I brought Gilbert's morning dose of painkillers.  And," he hesitated, not meeting Ivan's eyes, "I, I wanted to ask permission to, to go to see, to see Feliks."

The smile was back on Ivan's face though Gilbert tensed at the name, recognizing the shopkeeper who had a bad habit of selling illegal things, occasionally to the wrong person. He also had an extreme hatred of Ludwig and Gilbert which was mostly mutual.

But so far as Gilbert knew, he hated Ivan more.

"Why?" Ivan asked, not quite giggling but his eyes were oddly annoyed.

Toris swallowed hard at that, but held his ground, "Because it has been, has been a long time since I have, have seen him.  And he, he is a friend."

Gilbert's brows went up. "He is an odd friend," Ivan said, cocking his head to one side.

"We, we grew up together. And we, we never stopped being friends after, after we grew up," Toris murmured, eyes focused at just about Ivan's chin level.

"Except for all the times he's abandoned you," Ivan murmured but didn't change expression.

Toris visibly flinched at those words, "Sometimes, sometimes he didn't have a choice. He, he's not unselfish, but, but I can, I can understand that.  He never was."

"You're not a captive here," Ivan said and Gilbert scowled at the reminder he was. "If you would like to see him this afternoon you may."

Toris offered Ivan a bow at that, setting the pain medicine down on the end table by the couch, "Thank you, sir."

"Certainly," Ivan said cheerfully. Gilbert fumbled over for the medication, not wanting to admit he was in pain but needing it.

Pausing for a brief moment longer, Toris nodded and slipped out of the room again.

Gilbert watched the door close. He hadn't really been aware Feliks had friends like Toris and it made him re-evaluate the other somewhat, though not nearly as much as meeting Ivan's sisters had him re-evaluating him.

"Is your House anything like this?" Ivan asked and Gilbert laughed softly.

"Sortta," he said, shifting on the couch, looking out the window. Except that he had often been the one to do the bursting into rooms, never staying in one place long enough to have it done to him so consistently. Ivan hummed and Gilbert fell asleep on the couch facing the window without meaning to as he listened to the other work.

o-o-o

Waking up before Lovino, Antonio spent a while watching him before slipping out of the bed and quietly getting dressed. It was early still and he didn't actually want to wake Lovino up yet but after such a long time in bed healing he was restless and disinclined to sleep.

He meandered down the stairs, stopping in front of the room Feliciano often painted in, wondering about the portrait the other had suggested he was painting of him.

Feliciano came down the hall, pausing when he saw Antonio.  He offered a bright smile and joined the other, "Good morning."

"Good morning," Antonio said, smiling at him and taking a step away from the door he'd been considering blankly.

Reaching for the door, Feliciano looked him over, "Something on your mind?"

"Not really," he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I was just wandering. Didn't want to sleep anymore."

"Sleep well at least?" Feliciano's eyes lit with a smile.

Antonio laughed, a shade nervously. "Yeah, yeah I think I did eventually. It took a little bit though."

"Are you and Lovino doing alright today?"

"Good," he said, not quite blushing. "We got over the fight about you and Ludwig, and he might slowly be accepting the fact I love him."

"I'm sorry that that was a fight, but I'm glad to hear you two are working through things," Feliciano said honestly.  He paused, looking toward the door of his preferred studio, "Would you like to come in?"

"It was a fight about a lot of things," he said and paused. "Only if you would like me to. I don't want to pry..."

"I finished my painting of you last night and left it to dry. I wanted to check on it this morning anyhow.  Come on in," the younger man opened the door and stepped inside, turning on the light and crossing to the window to pull back the curtains before moving over to his easel to make sure he thought the painting truly was finished.

Antonio hesitated before following him inside. "So you don't really seem to paint off models much then?"

"I like to have a sketch of their face, but I can usually work without more than that.  I'll sometimes try for a sketch of more, but I don't usually need it."

"Fair enough," Antonio said before approaching the easel, strangely nervous and he was certain he had never been painted before.

Feliciano was frowning critically at the painting, "I think it's just about what I was going for with it, though some of the lines may need sharpened."

Antonio's jaw dropped and he blinked over at Feliciano. "Huh?"

The artist pointed to a couple of the swords on the wall behind Antonio in the painting, "They blend too much into the wall here." 

The painting was focused on the Head of the House lounging in a dark red chair central to the room, his red and gold tie loose around his neck.  The walls of the room were all but covered in an assortment of weapons ranging from battle axes to swords on up to guns, one handgun resting untouched on a small table next to Antonio.  Through an open window to the viewer's right the garden could be seen and the sunlight from the tall windows was the central method of lighting the scene.  Due to the angle, Antonio was left in minor shadow, his entire being speaking of a tiger at rest, his green eyes bright but cold and his easy smile dangerous.

Still staring at the painting with his jaw dropped, unsure how to react to it, Antonio gave him a disbelieving look. "Right," he managed, clicking his jaw shut again.

"I mean, it gets the point across, so I probably ought to leave it rather than risk putting too much on right there.  It's alright for those to blend a bit I guess," Feliciano mused, not conscious of Antonio's reaction.

"Right," Antonio repeated and looked back at the painting, eyes drawn to the garden and swallowing hard. "So are paintings like this a habit for you?"

"I speak better through my paintings.  I say a lot of things, and sometimes I can't stop myself from saying them, but I don't always manage to say what I mean when I'm talking.  This?  This lets me say exactly what I mean about a person," Feliciano said, finally glancing at Antonio.

Antonio took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Suddenly I think I understand more why Lovino wanted to say you'd never painted him."

"Lovino didn't understand what I was doing with his painting and he refused to let me explain it," Feliciano replied, shaking his head.

"Or he just didn't want the entire house to see his soul put out on the wall," Antonio murmured, reaching a hand out for the painting and remembering how long it took oils to dry before snatching it back.

"He made me hide it completely though.  Or rather, I had to hide it because he threatened it."

"He threatened it?" Antonio asked in some surprise. "I mean... he seems to think the worst of what people see in him but he threatened it?"

"There may have been implications of knives.  I liked the painting too much to risk it," Feliciano replied with a bit of a shrug.

"But you still have it?" Antonio looked over.

Feliciano nodded, "Of course I do.  Unless I gift them, I have all the paintings I've done."

"Who do you gift them too?" Antonio asked.

"Usually the person they're of.  Or a relative," he said, thinking of his conversation with Ludwig about a painting of Gilbert.

The corner of Antonio's mouth twitched, almost asking about lovers. "Can I see the painting? Of Lovino I mean."

"If you promise not to let him know you've seen it," Feliciano agreed.

"Sure," Antonio said, fully intending to keep the promise as he made it.

"Wait here a minute."  He slipped out of the room, returning a handful of minutes later carrying a covered painting and setting it down long enough to carefully move the painting of Antonio.  Placing the new piece of art on the easel, he removed the cover to reveal his painting of his twin.

The painting was noticeably darker than Antonio’s, the shades used to send most of it into shadows—the background nearly lost to it.  The primary lighting came from the left of the viewer and caught the shine of Lovino's shoes.  Standing in the dark room, Lovino was dressed in black slacks and a deep red shirt.  The collar of the shirt was undone and a cream colored tie hung loose around his neck.  The sleeves of the shirt were unbuttoned as well, the suit coat tossed over a chair to his left.  In his right hand he held a pistol at his side and there was a second in an underarm holster beneath his right arm.  His left hand grasped a crumpled picture that might have been of the two brothers, but it was a blur.

His face was impassive, but he stood at the ready, prepared to raise and fire the gun any moment.  On a table by the chair his coat lay on sat a bowl holding rags in water—both stained a pale red.  A guitar lay discarded in the background—art and music taking second place to concerns of the Family.

On closer inspection there were places where his shirt was stained a darker red and his hair was ever so slightly out of place.  The rags in the bowl were apparently for his own wounds.  The portrait was of a protector and fighter first, and a brother or lover second.  The Family and his family took precedence over his own health and the way he held the picture and the gun—ready to fight anyone who entered the room with murder in their hearts—evidenced it.  A guard first, a brother second.  A guard of family first, a guard of the Family second.

For a long moment Antonio didn't move. "I can see why he threatened it," he said finally and ended up sitting down in front of it because he wasn't sure he could continue standing.

Feliciano glanced at him uncertainly, "Can you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It..." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Your paintings show too much of a person. I think he'd rather hide, let alone the fact he always reads himself in the worst possible light."

"He told me that it looked like he was stuck in the shadows and designed for violence and nothing else.  But, but that's not what this was supposed to be," Feliciano sighed, looking at the painting that he had spent weeks upon weeks working on until he was happy with it.  Most of his art he could see in full, his painting of his grandfather had taken perhaps five days, and the one of Antonio had been, at most, a week and a half.  The piece currently on the easel had taken him upwards of a month.

"He's also about protecting his family," Antonio said and draped his elbows over his knees. "Hey, Feliciano. You and Ludwig."

"Exactly," the artist agreed, though he hesitated for another moment.  "What about us?"

"Is there going to be a you?" Antonio asked, not quite looking over at him.

"I, I don't know.  I want there to be."  He looked toward his easel again, "I've never wanted to paint someone outside the Family quite like I want to paint him."

"Your brother's worried," Antonio said. "And I think he doesn't want to lose you to anyone else. But... Ludwig belongs to another House. Don't forget that."

Feliciano drew a deep breath and nodded, "I, I know.  It's kind of hard to forget, with him being the Head and all."

For a long second Antonio didn't move or speak. "Feliciano, most Heads of Houses don't live very long. Your grandfather, Otho, they were exceptions."

Closing his eyes tightly against that thought, Feliciano curled his hand in his hair as he answered, "I, I know that. I expect I'll probably outlive him, but, but I'm not sure I care."  He paused, finally opening his eyes again, his emotions raw and visible on his face, "Have you mentioned this to Lovino yet?"

"No," Antonio said, not daring to look over. "No, and I probably won't."

Feliciano's tone dropped at that, "You're not going to?  I'm not the only one falling, or fallen for a Head, Antonio."

"What could I tell him?" Antonio said, still staring at the painting. "Either he's figured it out or he won't." He laughed, the sound bitter. "What could I even say? I accepted this post because I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be in this position? That I'll probably die sooner rather than later?" He was smiling but the corners of his eyes were pinched and he didn't much look happy at all.

Feliciano looked away again, feeling off kilter and upset about too many things to name, "If he hasn't figured it out, it's not fair to him.  Damnit, Antonio he _loves_ you.  Deeply.  I don't think you understand just how deeply."

"Well at least that lack of understanding is mutual," Antonio murmured, more to himself before looking up at Feliciano. "But truly. What do you expect me to say to him?"

He raked a hand through his auburn hair in frustration, "I don't know!"

"How am I supposed to tell someone that's terrified of abandonment that I'll probably leave him at some point and it's not even going to be my choice?" Antonio asked. "How do I explain that I've killed Heads myself and how easy it is? He gives me a reason to keep myself alive but he's also a weakness, a target that I painted on him, and a reason or not it's not enough in this town. How could I do that to him if it's true that every moment counts and I don't want to do that to him?"

"I..."  Feliciano paused and finally sank down into one of the chairs and buried his head in his hands, "You, I guess, you aren't.  And you can't.  Not to Lovino.  He, he tries to be so strong," he glanced up briefly at the painting, "but that thought..."  He shook his head, "You're right."

"If he figures it out," Antonio shrugged. "But I can't tell him."

Feliciano managed to nod again, "It would do more harm than good."

"I'm sorry though," Antonio said, resting his chin on one of his arms. "That I can't. And I just... because I can't make sure he knows what he's getting into I wanted to make sure you did. With Ludwig."

"Thank you," he sounded caught between genuinely grateful, and desperately wishing Antonio hadn't.

"He's a good kid," Antonio said, still staring at the painting. "He's sensible. He might well outlive Otho, he's smart enough. He just needs the luck. He's not nearly as insane as his brother at least."

"On the other hand, with the Russians actively against him, he might not last the year," Feliciano murmured.

"Then if you're set on this, you should probably take advantage of that," Antonio said quietly.

The younger man blinked rapidly at that before looking up, "What?"

"That he's still alive," Antonio said. "I mean, there's not a whole lot of point in moving slow. Should I assume you were his first kiss or not?"

Feliciano blushed at that, but nodded, "Yes."

Antonio didn't sigh, barely keeping it in his chest. "Alright. Say, Feliciano?"

He glanced at Antonio, "Hm?"

"Can I have the painting?" he asked, voice soft.

Feliciano blinked at him for a long moment before looking back at the art, "Lovino's going to kill me for saying yes, but of course you can."

"I'll try to distract him from that," Antonio said, surging to his feet and picking up the painting, wrapping it back up.

Feliciano offered him a bit of a smile, "Yeah.  What, what do you want done with the one of you?"

He paused, staring at it again and swallowing hard. "Hang it probably. It's the right message to send," and he just hoped no one else would notice the garden in the corner quite so much.

The smile he received held a hint of uncertainty, but was brilliant besides that, "I'll see about a frame for it once it's finished drying."

"Thank you, Feliciano," Antonio said, still holding the painting. "I... I'll see you later."

"Have a good day, Antonio."

He offered him a faint smile and left, almost running up the stairs with how desperately he wanted to suddenly see Lovino again, even for having just been in bed with him.

Lovino was just sitting up, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, when Antonio entered.  He blinked at him for a long moment and frowned very slightly, "When did you leave?"

Setting the painting by the door, Antonio clambered onto the bed, straddling Lovino to kiss him, hands in his hair.

Lovino pushed Antonio back a bit, still blinking at him, "Good morning to you too."  His gaze drifted to what the other had brought in, "What've you got?"

"A painting," he said, nuzzling against Lovino's cheek, the conversation with Feliciano still feeling raw in him.

The other man stilled at that, his hand pausing for a brief moment where it was tracing up Antonio's back, "Which painting?"

Antonio paused. "There's a limited number of choices."

"He gave you the one he did of me," Lovino's tone was flat.

"I asked for it," Antonio replied, still running his fingers through Lovino's hair.

"Why?"  Lovino couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"Because you're beautiful," Antonio said. "And because I think you've misunderstood it."

Lovino offered him an unimpressed scowl at that, "You're going to hang it up aren't you?"

"I'd like to," Antonio admitted. But he also wanted, more than anything, for Lovino to actually move into the room with him, though he hadn't told the other that yet. "But even if it's something that leans against the wall somewhere that I can only look at on occasion that's alright too."

"It's your painting now, you can do what you want with it," Lovino muttered, closing his eyes so they weren't drawn toward the covered art again.

Antonio stroked his hair again. "Yes. But Lovino," he said and rose, moving over and uncovering the painting before leaning it back against the wall. "What do you see?"

Lovino stared at him, "Are you seriously asking that?"

"Yes," Antonio nodded. "Because I can probably promise that I see something different. What do you see here?"

"I," he paused and looked at the painting, glaring at it as though it might spontaneously combust if he wished hard enough.  "I see a weapon.  Something designed for use.  A guard who's proficient in the things he knows—shadows and guns."

"You are extremely competent," Antonio agreed. "And you know how to fight and you are in the shadows. But perhaps there more from life than being only suited for that." He paused, stepping closer to Lovino. "Do you know what I see here?"

Lovino couldn't seem to pull his gaze away from the painting, something coiling in his stomach that felt a lot like fear toward what Antonio would say, "No.  I'm, I don't know if I want to," he murmured, his voice barely reaching his own ears.

"I see someone who wants to protect his family," Antonio said softly, pointing at the picture of Feliciano. "Who may be trained as a weapon but one that points himself to protect what he loves. Who is in the dark but knows what light is and is not trapped in that dark. I still think you're beautiful and even the darkness cannot hide that."

"You got all that from _that_ painting?" Lovino looked skeptical.

"Yes," he said.

"Doesn't change the fact that I look right at home in the dark and violence and blood," Lovino muttered.

"Aren't you?" Antonio asked, slinking closer. "But you are so for protection. It's a better reason than glory or blood lust."

"But," he tried to find a way to explain what was going on in his head, "But it's how Feliciano sees me.  Whether it's for protection or not, it's cut off.  It's hiding and secrets and..." he shook his head, dropping his gaze to the blankets, picking at them.

Antonio's eyes widened suddenly. "Does it bother you because it was painted by Feliciano?"

"I, I don't know. Kind of."

"That he thinks of you in this way?" Antonio touched the corners of his face, running his thumb along his cheek.

Lovino didn't look up and didn't move beyond picking at the blankets for a long moment before he finally nodded.

"He loves you," Antonio said faintly. "And hey, I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"And I know all that.  It doesn't mean I like what he's painted of me, or that I agree with how you read it," Lovino muttered, still not looking at the other man.

Antonio reached forward to touch the side of his face, stroking it. "Do you at least believe I love you?"

Lovino finally looked up, nodding, "I do believe that."

"Good," Antonio said, leaning down to press their mouths together. To make the angle easier he dropped to his knees in front of the other, tilting his head back.

Leaning into the kiss, his hand moving to cup Antonio's cheek, Lovino drew himself closer to the other man.

"I won't hang it if you don't want me too," Antonio murmured, "But I'd like to, over there," he said, pointing to a reading nook on the other side of the glass door to the balcony.

Lovino drew a deep breath, looking in that direction, "It, it would be alright for you to hang it in here."

"Only if you want to," Antonio murmured, kissing Lovino's throat.

He tilted his head back to give Antonio better access, "It's your room and the painting was given to you.  I don't...I don't mind."

"Thank you, Lovino," Antonio murmured, stroking a hand down his spine.

Lovino shivered at that touch, "We really should get on with our day."

"We could," Antonio agreed. "Is there anything you need to be getting on with?"

"Not, not really, but people will talk."

"You think they aren't already?" Antonio asked, shifting up to nuzzle against his ear. "Does it bother you?"

"I don't know.  I think it bothers me that I don't know what they're saying," Lovino answered, tracing his fingers through Antonio's hair and along the back of his neck.

"I'm sure you could ask Bella," Antonio said. "We could always get up, see if that stops any of the rumors."

"If there's a rumor then it won't be stopped by us getting up," Lovino considered before tugging at Antonio's shoulders to pull him onto the bed.

Smirking, Antonio flopped over him, biting his collarbone. "I can't get over this," he said. "Being able to touch you as much as I want."

Lovino gasped, tilting his head back against the pillows, "The idea of staying here forever grows more and more tempting."

"I'd keep you here," Antonio said. "Your brother would remember to feed us."

"You're Head of the House, you have to leave the room eventually."

Antonio paused, remembering the conversation he'd had with Feliciano, running his tongue over Lovino's collarbone instead. "Eventually," he agreed.

Lovino's breath stuttered, "So we're, we're doing this again, then?"

Antonio's head snapped up. "You're the one who pulled me back onto the bed."

"I'm not protesting, Antonio."

"Oh," he said and grinned. "Good." Running his hands along Lovino's sides, he laughed. "I almost regret not being able to undress you again though."

Lovino shivered, "Maybe another time, hm?"

"It'd be silly to dress you up to undress you," Antonio laughed. "Though maybe when we finally do leave I could."

"You're wearing too many clothes, yourself."

"You wanna work on that?" Antonio smirked, shifting back and holding his arms out.

Lovino smirked in return, pushing Antonio back further and trailing his fingers down the other's throat, starting to unbutton his shirt and trailing kisses over each piece of exposed skin as he did so.

Rolling his head back, Antonio groaned, shifting into the touches. Lovino chuckled against his skin, sliding the shirt from his shoulders and letting his fingers ghost over the skin of Antonio's arms.

Making a muffled sound, Antonio pressed forward, trying not to rush the other. Smirking very slightly, Lovino moved down to remove Antonio's shoes and socks before sliding back up along the other's legs and undoing his belt and pants before slowly drawing them down as well. He stretched up, pressing himself chest to chest with the other man and kissed him hard.

When Lovino was distracted with the kiss, Antonio rolled them on the bed until he was braced above the other, biting and licking a path down his chest. He stopped at his navel, licking it and wondering idly if Lovino would ever consider a piercing there. "You know, Lovi, sometime I'd like to switch."

It took a moment for the words to process and even then Lovino blinked at Antonio, "What?"

Antonio smirked up at him, licking his navel again. "Sometime, I'd like to see what it would be like to have you pin me down and have your way. Which is not to say I'm not enjoying having my way with you right now."

Lovino's eyes widened, but his mind blanked again and he moaned, tipping his head back, "That, sometime."

Antonio smirked and tilted his head down again.

o-o-o

Toris couldn't help the nervous glances he offered to people who he passed as he approached Feliks' apartment.  He knew his friend had the afternoon off and had taken that into account.  He paused for a long moment on Feliks' doorstep before knocking quickly on the door and hoping the other was actually in.

For a long moment there wasn't a sound from inside until there was a sudden flurry of noises and the door wrenched open. "What?" Feliks asked, shoulder length blond hair clipped back and looking like he might have just woken up. His eyes widened when he actually took the time to see who was on his doorstep. "Toris, in, in, like, get in here already."

Toris stepped in, instinctively stepping to the side as he entered so that he was out of sight from the door and from where he knew the windows in the front room of Feliks' apartment were, "I'm sorry I didn't call ahead."

"No, it's fine," he said, waving a hand. "Sit down I have... like coffee or juice or something somewhere. It's just unexpected is all."

"I don't, don't need anything, or rather just water's fine," Toris said as he pulled one of the curtains part of the way closed before sitting down on the couch.

"You are the most paranoid person I know," Feliks said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "And I want coffee. So you're not putting me out or anything."

"It comes with the territory," Toris responded, his eyes darting around the room as he looked for anything that had changed since he'd been there last.  "If, well if you're already brewing some, I could do with some coffee."

Feliks arched a brow, wondering if the coffee would just make the other more high strung or if he should spike it with something. "I changed the left end table," he said, having watched the search. "And got a new plant. Now just sit down and breathe, alright?"

The brunet offered him a faint smile at that as he finally leaned back and relaxed slightly, "I like the plant.  How long have you kept it alive so far?"

"Three weeks," Feliks called from the kitchen, getting the coffee started before coming back to the doorway. "And what's with that question anyway, huh? Like I can't keep a plant alive."

"You get busy and distracted is all," Toris replied, fiddling with a loose thread on the couch.

"I'd still like to think myself capable of keeping up a plant," Feliks shot back, not saying he'd gotten it because he'd been feeling particularly lonely one week.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of taking care of a plant," Toris murmured, his glance moving to the object they were discussing.  "I didn't mean to say otherwise."

Feliks let out a breath. "So what brought you here anyway?" he asked, pushing back his blond hair out of his face.

"I can't just come to see you?  It's been a while, after all," the other offered as an answer, twisting a lock of his hair between his fingers.

"You could, but you usually don't," Feliks said and his brows furrowed.

"Well," he drew a deep breath, knowing what he was asking. "I did come to see you, but I, I had a favor to ask too."

Feliks didn't sigh, and he didn't say of course. "Alright," he said instead. "What is it?"

Toris tensed as though bracing himself, "I need you to tell Ludwig Beilschmidt that his brother's alive and healing well."

"What?" Feliks asked, voice dropping flat.

Flinching, Toris dropped his gaze to his hands, "I know what I'm asking you to do.  I just, I can't do it myself or I would."

"Why the fuck," Feliks started. "Like, why would I do something like that? Or have you forgotten I pretty much hate him? Not quite as much as your boss or say, his brother, but there's like, enough hatred there."

"Because I'm asking you to?  With all that's going on do you know how much of a risk I'm taking even doing that much?"  Toris finally looked at him again, his hands shaking very slightly.

"Then why are you taking the risk for those bastards anyway?" Feliks snapped.

"Because, because I feel sorry for them.  They're..."  He tried to figure out how to say what he was thinking, "They're completely cut off from one another.  Gilbert wanted to hear his brother so badly that he risked everything and earned himself more broken ribs for that simple act.  I just, I can't do more than that, but I want to.  I'm not saying I like them, I find Gilbert to be a complete ass at best, but he's lost everything he knows, family and friends alike and if all I can do is let them know he's alive then that's what I'll do."

Feliks paused, actually looking like he was considering that. "You say the idiot got his ribs broken for calling his brother?"

"Re-broken, and a new cracked one, yes.  He, he stole Ivan's phone to do it which was stupid and reckless, but he didn't know anything so it's not as though he was calling to pass on information.  He genuinely missed his brother that much," Toris sighed, shaking his head.

Feliks shifted his shoulders, not liking to think of Gilbert with anything like sympathy. "I'll get the coffee," he muttered and retreated rather than deal with it for a moment longer.

Toris watched him go with another sigh, rubbing his right shoulder absently.  If this didn't work he would have to give up on any thought of letting the Head of the German House know about his brother's health.  He couldn't risk Ivan finding out.

Feliks paused in the doorway, frowning slightly. "Something up with your shoulder?" he asked, moving forward with the coffee.

Toris startled slightly at the question, drawing his hand away from the scar there and shaking his head, "Strained it the other day."

"That bastard Ivan works you too hard," Feliks said, handing the cup over. "But he hasn't done anything, has he?"

Toris cradled the cup carefully, breathing in the scent, "To me?  No."  The lie came more easily to his tongue than he liked.  It was a risk one took working for Ivan, but it had been some time since he had stepped out of line enough to feel a punishment from either the Head or from Winter as proxy.

"But he's been beating up on that stupid German who probably can't keep his mouth shut?" Feliks asked, taking the first sip of coffee.

"Just the ribs since Gilbert's been there.  He's shown...a lot of restraint," Toris replied, still considering the coffee, letting the warmth seep through the porcelain of the mug into his thin hands.

"Restraint?" Feliks brows went way up. "Oh my god, if they end up in a fucked up relationship or something I'm not sure if I'm going to laugh or like, cry for hours. They deserve each other though."

"Laughter of the sort that comes with hysteria is probably appropriate," Toris replied, finally taking a drink of the coffee.

"Do you have another reason for Ivan not like, knocking his head off by now?" Feliks asked. "Actually, the poor bastard probably has no idea what to do if that is the case."

"I've got no other explanation, and so I've been very carefully avoiding thinking about it, thank you."

"But he must be so pathetic!" Feliks crowed, feeling suddenly better at the thought.

Toris pinched the bridge of his nose and thought he felt a twinge in his shoulder, but brushed that aside as phantom pain, "I don't know if it's possible for Ivan to be 'pathetic'.  Confused certainly."

Feliks rolled his eyes. "Except he'd probably mix up violence for signs of affection or something and that _is_ pathetic."

"So far that hasn't happened, at least," Toris replied.  "I really do not want to be patching Gilbert up more than I absolutely must."

"Is he particularly bad?" Feliks asked, sitting on the end of the couch and drawing his legs up.

"He gets bored.  And he's been trapped in the same room since Ivan brought him back.  Well, except for today, but the point stands.  He's bored, he's confused, I'm pretty sure he's in more pain than he lets on, so yeah.  He's a particularly bad patient," Toris sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

"Well he's always been an idiot and a jerk," Feliks said and paused. "It must suck though, being stuck like that. I wonder if he's lonely."

Toris grimaced, but offered a half shrug, "Probably."

"Maybe you should get him a plant," Feliks said and realized that exposed too much. "Make Raivis water it."

Toris blinked once at that, catching some of the implications behind the initial comment, "I don't think I could do that to Raivis.  He's terrified of Gilbert."  He glanced at Feliks, "A plant though could be good."

He shrugged, looking out the window rather than at Toris. "But like, it wasn't my idea if the asshole asks."

"I'll blame the idea on Eduard, make him water it," Toris said, taking another drink of coffee before setting his mug aside.

The motion drew Feliks’ gaze back. "Yeah, that would serve him right too."

Toris finally smiled again, "Maybe so.  How have you been?  We've been talking a lot about the House."

Balancing his cup between his legs, Feliks stretched his arms up over his head. "Because the House is more interesting. My life is much the same as it has been for a while, you know?"

"I, I guess so," Toris murmured.  "I just, it would be nice to hear about something not dealing with violence and the House, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Feliks said with a small smile. "I mean, work is sortta just work, keeping my nose as far down as I can and away from crazy bastards. The English aren't so bad to deal with. We got a new girl at the shop though, and she's a right terror."

"A right terror, hm?"  Toris smiled faintly at that.  "Think she'll mellow with time?"

"She better," Feliks said, throwing his hands up again. "I don't have time for right terrors." He paused for a long moment, watching Toris. "Say, Ivan knows you’re out today right?"

Toris tensed very slightly at the question, but nodded, "He gave me the afternoon."

"We should go out," Feliks said, popping suddenly to his feet. "You've been stuck inside for too long, knowing you."

The other blinked rapidly at him, "Wh-what?"

"I mean," he paused slightly. "Only if you're up for it. But you should get out, do something. Something that's... just for fun, you know?"

That earned a ghost of a smile as Toris got to his feet, "What do you suggest?"

"I haven't decided yet," he declared, and took the clips out of his hair, shaking his head slightly. "But outside. Definitely outside."

"Alright then, outside it, it is."

"You gonna be okay with that?" he asked, wanting to make sure.

Toris nodded once, "I'll be fine with that.  It, it'll do me good."

"Yes it will," Feliks declared and held his hand out. "So come on."

Toris paused for the briefest of moments before taking Feliks' hand, "Lead on, then."

Smiling, Feliks turned their hands together and led him outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, just letting you know that we're both headed to internships for the summer and I (Meddalarksen) will be sans wi-fi for the next few months. We have sorted out how to continue writing and I'll be able to go to the library for wi-fi on Saturdays. Since I'm the one in charge of updates for this fic we're going to a Saturday-only update schedule, but we'll do our best to be consistent with that and you should see a new chapter each weekend.
> 
> Have a great summer!


	10. Whole Point of Protection

Arthur sat in a small cafe in the neutral zone, sipping at a cup of tea.  He made a couple of annotations to the book he was reading, having left his work at the house and taken a few hours to himself.  He was running himself ragged with everything that was going on in the city and he knew it, and his own interpersonal issues were simply adding to the mix and leaving him exhausted.  So he had taken a novel out and left for a couple of hours.  He knew that Cameron was hovering a block down the street, even though he'd told his brother to stay behind, but he couldn't bring himself to care overly much.

When he was looking down to make a note, Sadiq slid into the seat across from him. "Strange to see you outside."

Glancing up, Arthur blinked once and set the book aside, "I get outside from time to time."

"I'd never have believed it until I saw it," Sadiq said, picking the book up and almost stopping at how familiar that motion was. But he was already committed to it so he tilted his head at the cover, flipping open the first few pages.

"Well, now you've seen it," Arthur said, reaching for the book and pausing as he realized that was an action he would have attempted a few months prior.  He pulled back and turned his attention to his tea, "What brings you out?"

"The usual things," Sadiq said, setting the book down as quickly as he could without it looking pathetic. "The sun is out, there's coffee to be had."

Arthur slid the book back across the table, "I still don't understand your taste for that stuff."

"It's coffee," Sadiq said but the phrase didn't have the same passion or argument that it once had when he'd tried to convince Arthur. "And it is what it is."

"What brought you to my table?" Arthur asked after a moment.

He refused to admit that it had just seemed natural to stop by. "You wanted to talk about alliances last time."

"Right, yes, I had.  Have you reached a decision then?" he asked, setting his cup aside.

"I have no interest in an alliance with you," Sadiq deadpanned. "Because you're a manipulative little shit who uses people as it suits him to further his own goals. But on the other hand, I don't much want to fight you. And since we've both sent out offers of alliance to the German House, I suppose we're currently, tentatively on the same side."

Arthur's jaw tensed, but he knew it was accurate assessment of him and so didn't argue it.  He nodded very slightly, "Neutrality for the time being, then?  Since we're tentatively on the same side?"

"Something like that," Sadiq agreed.

"How has your House been in the midst of this?" Arthur asked, unfolding and refolding a napkin as he spoke.

"Perfectly fine," Sadiq returned easily enough. "We've all but been ignored lately and I can't say I mind."

"Bordering on Russian territory; if you minded I'd rather wonder what had gone wrong in your head."

Sadiq's smile was anything but amused. "Yes, I rather like the turn events have taken. I'd rather his attention be on the Germans than me, but I'd also rather not see the entire House bulldozed into oblivion."

"They're a relatively strong House, and they've accrued a decent set of alliances," Arthur replied.

"Yes, and I don't think I've ever actually seen the Russian house so angry," Sadiq replied. "They've been building up in quiet for years."

"Is there any idea of what their current strength actually looks like?"

"They've been using the casino Ivan has to get a lot more money," Sadiq said. "Their men are highly trained and there's a lot more than you see on the street. Could I give you exact figures? No, and I'm the only one in the city with contacts inside that House no less."

"So in other words, the German House, and ours by default of the alliances, is one step better than blind but lacking in crucial information regardless.  Ivan's indicated a disinclination for alliances, but do you think that's a possibility for him if it comes down to it?"  the Englishman asked, sipping at his tea and grimacing when he found it lukewarm.

Sadiq rolled his eyes. "You mean like he offered the German house?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and ran down a mental list of Houses in his head, trying to determine if there were any that might actually ally with the Russians, "More productive than that one.  He's an intelligent man who'll learn, and has learned, from that mistake."

"And the only time he ever offered someone an alliance they used it to attack him," Sadiq said. "I can't imagine how that must feel," he added, voice a deadpan again. "If that's the lesson, he won't be the one reaching out. So the question is who would come to him."

Arthur picked up the pen he'd been using in his book and spread out one of the paper napkins, ignoring Sadiq's pointed comments.  He sketched a rough outline of the city, and divided it up according to the approximate borders held by the Houses.  Shorthand notations quickly specified the territories and he crossed off his, the Germans, the Romans, and Sadiq's.  "The Nordics tend to avoid getting involved in these messes as much as they can," a quick mark there to indicate that it was unlikely, "and the Latin house has no quarrel with the Germans.  Though they've one with Carreido I don't think they would align themselves directly with Ivan to play that out.  They might take advantage of this, but I don't see it as a direct alliance."

"They hate Carreido almost as much as you do," Sadiq replied. "There's still the African and Asian houses though."

Arthur tapped his pen against the makeshift map as he considered that, "I don't know what the African House is likely to do, I've not had much contact at all involving them in a few years.  Yao, however, had implied a desire toward isolation.  Since I trust his word about a dozen times less than you trust mine, I think it's entirely possible that he would offer some form of alliance to Ivan.  But that may be my paranoia acting up again."

"Your paranoia usually manages to serve you well," Sadiq shrugged. "Even if it makes you a bastard."

"Francis might disagree with you," Arthur murmured before he thought about it.  He froze for a brief moment when he realized what he'd said and decided he had been sleeping far too rarely if he wasn't regulating his words.

"Francis," Sadiq repeated, folding his hands over the table. "And what would Francis have to disagree with me about?"

Arthur paused before shrugging, "It hardly matters."

"But I'm curious now," Sadiq replied, drawling.

"Whether or not my paranoia usually serves me well.  It does sometimes, but as to how it affects my overall health he'd probably disagree," Arthur replied, wishing he hadn't said anything.  He very much did not want to be talking about Francis to Sadiq.

Sadiq was giving him a long look. "Interesting thing for the man in charge of your intelligence to say."

"He may have figured out I'm sleeping less than I ought to be," came the response.

The fingers of Sadiq's hands twitched. He'd never believed himself to be in love with Arthur but he was used to running hands along his shoulders to relax him, and dragging him to bed to make sure he was still sleeping. "Right," was all he said instead, voice bland.

Arthur cleared his throat, looking away, "Right, well, regardless.  It's entirely possible that the African House could ally with Ivan, but I'd be more concerned about the Asian House."  He pocketed his pen and withdrew his wallet to set down the money for his tea.  He should leave.  He should get up and walk away while he still had some shred of sense left to him.

"What would you recommend if they do ally?" Sadiq asked, deciding not to press his questions about Francis.

"I'm not certain yet," Arthur rubbed his brow, sighing. "Yao's kept himself so closed away that I don't know what his full strength is.  I'd suggest strategic strikes, but we don't know either House's full strength.  I've been trying to figure out contingencies, but every single one ends with the problem that we don't know exactly what we're facing."

"I can look more into Ivan," Sadiq said. "I've been trying to get contact with the crazy fucking German, though it hasn't worked so far."

"The problem is finding more information on Yao as well.  I don't have much chance, but it's possible there's some route I haven't considered there, yet."

"Can't help you there," Sadiq said and shrugged.

Arthur shook his head, "We'll see what can be done then."

Sadiq cupped his chin in one hand, watching the other. "Say, Arthur."

Arthur glanced at him, "Yes?"

"Did you ever actually care or was it all just a way to get information?" Sadiq asked, tone mild.

The Englishman paused at that question, considering it for a moment, "I cared, I just..."  He considered how to phrase what was on his mind, "You said it yourself, I'm manipulative.  I've spent my days trying to keep a step ahead of everyone and taking any chance I see.  It's, never been a habit I have a desire to break and it's kept me alive.  But I did care, I just, I saw a chance."

"Maybe next time, you shouldn't take the chance," Sadiq said, pushing himself to his feet. He had never bothered ordering coffee.

"Sadiq, I..." he shook his head, "perhaps you're right."

The other paused. "Was there something else?" he asked, trying to keep his tone mild or interested instead of gruff or angry.

"No.  Nothing else," Arthur replied, opening his book again.  He intended to leave after Sadiq did, he had had more than enough time outside.

Sadiq scowled down at him, wanting to twist the knife in and say something cruel but instead he walked away. "I'll look into the Russian House. That being said, I'd rather not see your face again for a while."

"I'm not the one who approached the other this time," Arthur muttered, watching the other leave.

o-o-o

Sometime during their afternoon out, Toris had gotten the promise out of Feliks to go visit Ludwig. So now, after work and still in his uniform and name tag he knocked on the door of the German house, looking around himself and feeling an itch between his shoulder blades. As he waited, he pulled his name tag off, tucking it into his pocket.

The door opened and Vash blinked at him for a long moment, "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to that—I mean, I am here to speak to Ludwig, or like, whatever," he said, and scowled. "Please."

Vash frowned, but stepped aside, "Come in, I'll see if he's available."

"Thanks," Feliks said, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. He would going to strangle Toris next time he saw him. But he couldn't help looking around as he entered. The German house was smaller than the Russian one, with lower ceilings and more wood in the floors and staircases.

Vash motioned for another member of the House to keep an eye on Feliks and he hurried up the stairs.  He reappeared a few minutes later, "If you'll follow me, Ludwig will see you."

"Sure," Feliks said again, still feeling the itch between his shoulders and wanting to be anywhere else. He nervously tugged at the small ponytail he'd pulled his hair back into as he followed Vash.

Vash stopped in front of Ludwig's office, pushing the door open and offering Roderich, who was seated in the corner again, a frown, "Here we are."

"Like, thanks," Feliks said, looking more nervous at the sight of someone else in the office.

Ludwig was watching him with poorly disguised shock. "What... What can I help you with?" he asked, folding his hands in front of him.

Vash backed out of the room, closing the door.  Roderich glanced up, arching an eyebrow at Feliks and then looked toward Ludwig.

"Like," Feliks started and braced his shoulders. "I totally don't want to be here, because I swear you lot are as bad as the Russian bastards but whatever, I'm here for like, Toris, because he asked me and that's that." He took another breath as Ludwig's brows went up. "He asked me to tell you that your brother is like, still alive, but he got his ribs broken again for the stunt with the phone call so like, don't do anything moronic or stupid but he's alive."

Roderich breathed a soft sigh of relief, "Oh thank God."

"But, I'm not like telling you that because I like any of you," Feliks said quickly.

"Of course not," Ludwig agreed but the sheer look of relief on his face made Feliks feel uncomfortable.

"Thank you for telling us, regardless," Roderich said, some of the tension easing out of his frame at the knowledge that even if Gilbert wasn't _well_ he was _alive_.

Feliks scowled. "It sounds like he's being treated fairly well, Toris said he was healing though probably in more pain than he'd like to admit. Besides breaking his ribs again, Ivan hasn't done him violence or allowed others. Apparently he was even allowed outside of his room, I don't know. But that's all I have."

Roderich nodded once, "Again, thank you."  He glanced toward Ludwig, not having any idea how to actually respond to the information.

"Is there anything you would like?" Ludwig asked after a beat and Feliks' face twisted.

"What, like a fucking reward?" he asked, the offer making him angry as Ludwig had worried it might. "I don't need any of your tainted money, Beilschmidt."

Ludwig sighed. "You told me my brother was alive," he said softly. "That's worth more than any of the money in the world. I'd like to thank you in whatever way I can."

"As much guarantee of protection as we can offer, should you need it, perhaps?" Roderich suggested.

Feliks was about to open his mouth and snap that any protection they might possibly offer would be the biggest joke in the world but then he thought about Toris tugging the curtain closed and rubbing his shoulder as if it hurt or there was a bad memory in his skin. Feliks swallowed his initial reaction. "Alright," he said after a beat. "But only, I mean, if that offer could extend to one other person, if they need it."

Ludwig paused, and shrugged. "Of course, if either of you would accept it."

"Then I'd like to leave that option open," he said, shifting back.

"Certainly," Ludwig nodded. "And... thank you for coming."

"Whatever," Feliks said, uncomfortable still as he looked over to the side.

"Is there anything else?"  Roderich asked, looking Feliks over as he considered who the second person might be.

"No," he said, wanting to escape as fast as he could and close all the curtains in his apartment and lock the door.

"I'm sure Vash is lurking in the hallway and can show you out then," the intelligence officer suggested.

Feliks almost bobbed a curtsey he was still so nervous and the habit still ingrained in him. Instead he nodded curtly and turned on his heel, closing the door behind him.

Roderich watched him go, "You realize we just offered protection to Toris Laurinaitis, correct?"

Blinking once, Ludwig moved his gaze from the closed door over to Roderich. "What?"

"The only other person I can think for whom he would want protection would be Toris Laurinaitis.  I may be mistaken, but I doubt it," the brunet replied, still looking at the door.

"Is there any problem with offering him protection?" Ludwig asked after a beat.

"Probably not.  He's relatively high in the Russian House, however."

"So someone who would need a lot of protection, but also probably has enough information to make it worth protecting him," Ludwig said. "If he ever decided to take us and Feliks up on the offer."

"Exactly.  It's rather a serious if, but he would likely have a good deal of useful information," Roderich agreed.

Ludwig nodded. "But Gilbert is still alive."

Roderich smiled faintly in relief, "Yes, thank goodness."

"Even if that's not the messenger I expected," Ludwig said with a quirk of his mouth.

"He was rather unexpected, indeed.  I never thought to see him voluntarily walk through our front door.  It would appear he cares a good deal for Toris if he's willing to see you for him."

Ludwig paused, considering that. "Which is good to know," he said, though he still hated the idea of being that manipulative.

o-o-o

Once home, Feliks locked all the doors and windows and closed the curtains before watering his plant—which frankly was just making him feel more lonely now. Stripping out of his work uniform he only bothered to put on a clean pair of boxers before crawling into bed. He stared at the wall for a long moment before shuffling around to find his cell. It was safer if Toris called him but for once he didn't care, the offer from the Germans feeling like it was burning a hole in his chest.

Toris' number was not programed into his phone but he knew it by heart so it didn't much matter and he jammed the phone between his ear and the pillow as it started to ring.

Toris nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang.  He had just finished cleaning the kitchen for the night and pulled the phone out, recognizing the number.  Stepping out through the kitchen door, he answered as he exited, "Feliks?  What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he protested, but sounded exhausted. "I just," he paused, burrowing deeper into the bed.

Toris felt the panic that Feliks' number had sent racing through him fade and he breathed a soft sigh, "Oh thank goodness.  Are you, are you alright?"

"Just tired," he said. "I did your favor today."

"You," he glanced over his shoulder instinctively at that, stepping a bit further from the house, "you did.  Thank you."

"I don't think I've seen someone that relieved before in my life," Feliks said after a beat, really hating to admit that any of the Germans had complex emotions. It was easier for him to hate and be wary of everyone.

"I know how much I asked of you, so, so thank you so very much, Feliks," Toris murmured, already trying to think how to let Gilbert know that his brother was apprised of his condition.

"They offered me a reward," Feliks said, suddenly realizing it had been a very bad idea to call Toris when he was in his bed. Rolling onto his side, he pulled his legs up to his chest and tried not to think about it.

That earned a long pause from Toris, "What sort of a reward?"

"Does Ivan have any way to tap your cell?" Feliks asked, curling up even more.

"This conversation's already enough to garner a punishment if he has a tap on it," Toris replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

For a moment Feliks pressed his face against the pillow, reminding himself not to scream. "Fuck, Toris."

"I'll, I'm fine, Feliks.  Really."

"No you're not," Feliks said. "I'm not blind. The circles under your eyes, the way you kept rubbing your shoulder, something's wrong and I should never have left you there alone."

"Bullshit," Toris snapped.  "You got out while you could and when you needed to.  Do you, do you think I'd be able to do this if, if I knew you were still here?"

Feliks paused, breathing carefully. "The Germans offered us protection," he said finally. "If we ever wanted to take it."

Toris froze, praying that Ivan didn't have a tap on his cell because he was pretty certain this conversation would gain him new scars at the very least, "Us?"

"Us," Feliks repeated. "The two of us."

"Feliks, I, I couldn't," he murmured after a moment, though it hurt him to have to say that.

"I know," he managed and it sounded exhausted, like his voice was breaking. "But I wish you would."

Blinking rapidly, Toris drew a steadying breath, "You should take them up on it for yourself."

"Not without you," Feliks said, tone firm. "It would be—" meaningless and stupid. "It would separate us even more."

"But you'd be safe," Toris protested.  "Or safer at least."

"Then why won't you come with me?" Feliks demanded.

Toris hesitated, "Because I'm afraid of what Ivan might do."

"That's the whole point of protection," Feliks protested. "That we'd be... we can never be safe, but safer, and—"

"And it's not just us I'm talking about, Feliks," Toris sighed. "What happens to Eduard or Raivis if he thinks they might know something?"

"So you'd stay to protect everyone but yourself?" Feliks snapped, understanding why Toris would but hating him for it too.

"Yes," Toris said quietly, partially wishing he could say otherwise.  "I can't leave if I know that there might be a chance they would get hurt because of me."

"For once in your life could you be selfish?" Feliks found himself sitting up and yelling before he could think it through. "Toris, I—"

Toris flinched, "I, I _can't_ , Feliks. I wish I could, but I can't do that.  I'd hate myself for it, and you know it."

"I know," he said, burying his head in his knees and holding the phone carefully to his ear. "I just miss you, it's weird only seeing you once in a blue moon when Ivan isn't feeling like the controlling bastard he is."

"I, I know.  I miss you too, so much.  Feliks, promise," he drew a deep breath, "Promise me you're being careful."

"Of course I'm being careful, what am I, stupid?" Feliks said, trying to laugh it off.

"And, and that you'll keep doing so.  Please, Feliks, promise me," Toris insisted, a note of pleading slipping into his tone.

"Damnit Toris," he said into his knees. "Only if you do the same."

"I promise to do my best," Toris answered, mutedly.

"Then I'll try," Feliks said. "I promise I'll stay as safe as I can."

"Thank you," Toris breathed a sigh of relief.  "I, I need to go."

"Good night, Toris," he said quietly. "Stay safe," he said, looking over at the empty bed around him and berating himself for wishing Toris was there. It was a stupid waste of time.

"You too."  He paused for another long moment before hanging up and pocketing his phone.  He stayed outside for another few minutes, pulling himself together before he entered the house, locking the door once he was inside.  Standing in the kitchen he weighed his options and slipped out, grabbing the pain medicine on his way to Gilbert's room.

Gilbert blinked at him in surprise, as he usually didn't come this late. "I thought you already dropped my meds off."

Toris checked that the door was closed securely and crossed the room to the bedside, dropping his voice so he wouldn't be heard from the hall, "I wanted to let you know that your brother knows you're alive after that stunt you pulled with Ivan's phone.  And he knows you're healing, and I hope he knows not to do anything rash and stupid."

Staring at him openly in surprise, Gilbert forced his jaw to click shut. "That is not at all what I expected to hear you say when you walked in. How the hell?"

Toris shot a nervous glance toward the door before he answered, "Feliks went to speak to him today."

That was possibly even more surprising to Gilbert. "You mean the guy that hates my guts and would possibly dance on my grave when I have one went to talk to my brother to tell him news he wanted to hear? I repeat with how the hell?"

"Because I asked him to," Toris said quietly.

Gilbert stared at him for a long moment, processing that. "You know, I asked when you went to see him how he had any friends. I think I'm starting to understand that a bit more now."

"I've known him my whole life, he...he can be difficult, but it's Feliks.  He's good to his word when he gives it," Toris murmured.  He paused, glancing toward the door again, "How good are German offers of protection?"

Gilbert's jaw dropped. "I... give me a minute," he said, processing that as he did not dare ask the other man to repeat the question. "As good as an offer like that could be," he said after a moment. "With the Russians bearing down on us as I assume Ivan still is despite how well I've been treated. Any offer of protection can be broken or wormed through if you don't go underground or leave the city—or stay in the German house forever. But it's as good as you could get—and I'd sure as fuck say it's better than one from the English or Roman house."

Toris drew a steadying breath before nodding, "That's what I figured.  Thank you."

"It's still the best offer you're likely to get," Gilbert said, watching him closely.

"It's also one I can't take.  Not now," Toris murmured, focusing his gaze on the door and listening carefully during any breaks in their conversation.

"I'm curious why not," Gilbert said and shrugged. "I mean, specifically."

"Raivis and Eduard.  I can't risk Ivan thinking they know something about this.  And frankly, if something went wrong and, and it somehow fell to pieces..." he shook his head.  "I can't risk it yet."

"What would make it worth it to you?" Gilbert asked, feeling suddenly more lonely than he had since the first few days when he woke up.

"I don't, I don't know," Toris lied.  He paused, looking around the rather bare room and considering what Feliks had said about plants.

"Really," Gilbert said but didn't press the question again.

"We should get you a plant or something in here.  I'd suggest an animal instead, but you're not quite mobile enough for that yet," Toris mused, shifting the subject.

"I couldn't water it," Gilbert said but he sounded so pathetically desperate he wanted to hit himself.

Toris shrugged very slightly, "I could have Eduard do it, or I could do it, when we come in.  Just until you're able to get around to it yourself."

"Hey, Toris?" Gilbert said, not quite looking at him. "I'm not good at saying stuff, like admitting that I'm in pain or I'd rather say that being lonely is awesome rather than just saying that's what I am. But, thank you. For trying to put up with that."

The other blinked, but managed a ghost of a smile, "It would be easier if you'd admit to the pain at least.  But, you're not the only one who won't admit he's lonely."  His mind flickered back to Feliks and the plant that the other had and the implications that came between that and his suggestion for what to do for Gilbert.

"Yeah well," he huffed. "It just makes me feel pathetic. But... did he, did Feliks," he corrected. "Say anything about Ludwig?"

"That he's never seen someone look so relieved before, beyond that, I'm afraid not.  He isn't...fond of your brother so I doubt he spent much time there."

"Well, considering I thought he'd rather stab me than do something like that," Gilbert shrugged and added, still sounding a bit pained. "Thank you."

Toris nodded very slightly, "You, you're welcome.  I should, I should go."

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed. "G'night then."

"Good night, Gilbert," Toris murmured before retreating, closing the door softly behind him.

o-o-o

Leaving Lovino with the car, Antonio pushed the door to the post office open, making sure that Lovino could still see him through the glass windows. However, he refused to be so pathetic as to take his bodyguard with him to mail off several letters and check the PO box the Roman House used for business that was too sensitive to leave at the street mailbox of the house.

Closing and relocking the PO box he had been checking, Arthur thumbed through the correspondence therein.  He'd been unable to shake Cameron again, finally ordering him to deal with waiting in line to mail two packages instead of lurking.  The Head of the English House turned to leave and paused, blinking when he saw Antonio.  Wonderful, he was never leaving the house unless it was a scheduled meet again.

Antonio rocked back on his heels and tilted his head. "Kirkland," he greeted, tone wary.

"Carreido.  Fancy meeting you here, I've been meaning to set a meet with you for a couple of weeks now."

"Really?" Antonio drawled. "How kind of you."

"Though I suppose this will do as well.  As we're both allied to the Germans, I wished to offer you a neutrality pact, for the time being."

"For the time being?" Antonio arched his brows. "That's rather kind of you. Generous even."

"It's hardly to anyone’s benefit to have even default allies fighting amongst themselves.  Who knows, it could be a good thing to continue as well," Arthur shrugged very slightly, his hand curled around the rose-shaped handle of his cane.

Antonio just laughed. "I certainly never signed up for an alliance with you."

That garnered a mirthless smile, "Nor I with you.  But we've both backed the same House and find ourselves in a bit of a corner in that regard."

"Then we just won't fight, I certainly have no need of a pact with you," Antonio shrugged.

Arthur's brow arched at that, "I see.  And what guarantees do I have that you'll hold to what you're saying currently?"

"Nothing at all," Antonio said. "Except that I am a man of my word, unlike say, you."

That garnered a thin smile, "Of course you are."

"Do you doubt that?" Antonio asked, leaning back on his heels.

"I don't know.  I've seen no evidence one way or the other as regards that," Arthur replied easily.

Antonio let out a huff of breath. "Of course you haven't. But maybe you'll just have to put your faith in something that isn't you."

"Perhaps so.  We'll have to see if it's founded once I do."

"I don't actually have much inclination to fight you," Antonio said, tilting his head. "It's frankly counterproductive."

"Nor I you.  There are bigger concerns in the city at the moment, such as what to do should the Russians gain allies of their own," Arthur said, leaning against the bank of PO boxes.

Antonio scowled slightly, as the box he wanted was covered. "I'm not even sure that they need allies to break down whatever balance this city has."

"Certainly not.  They broke the balance the moment Otho was killed.  It was already in flux with your own unexpected rise to power," Arthur responded.  "What tentative razor's edge we've been walking for a decade and a half has slid and we'll be lucky if we survive it."

The line of Antonio's mouth thinned and he carefully did not look back at where he hoped Lovino was still at the car. "I do remember," he said. "Not well, but I remember."

Arthur looked toward the room where he knew his brother was finishing up with mailing the packages and pushed off the boxes again, taking a few steps away, "Let's hope that even if we can't keep ourselves standing that we can be sure our Houses remain, hm?"

"I don't know, I'd like to keep standing," Antonio said instead.

"We'd all like to do that, Antonio.  But we're the Heads and we're looking at a city-wide war," Arthur shook his head.  "We're more likely to fall first, and if not us then those closest to us.  It's just how it works."

Antonio's fingers twitched, wanting to punch Arthur in the face and barely managing not to. "And of course you would know. How many of your own heads did you kill again?"

"One," Arthur replied coldly.  "Two if you listen to the rumors.  _You're_ the one who killed the third one."

Antonio smiled icily at him. "But it wasn't an inside job," he said. "Those are far more detestable."

Arthur's gaze flickered to Antonio's leg, "Yes, they are, aren't they? It's all a matter of motive.  I'll kill anyone who tries to use their power against me, in my House or outside of it.  It's not my fault if they missed that memo." It had less to do with what they had been doing to him and far more to do with what sort of threats had come down from above toward Alfred and Matthew, but he was hardly going to say that.

"You're still damn lucky you succeeded on the first try," Antonio said, voice turning bland. "I'd have shot you in front of the rest of the House. But if you're going to kill anyone who uses their power against you, I only have to wish you luck against Ivan."

"Oh they tried that," Arthur responded easily.  "I just managed to back the next person to come into power which does a great deal toward quelling rumors."  He saw Cameron step into the hall from the mailroom and touched his brow with the handle of his cane, "Good day, Antonio.  And good luck to you."

"I have all the luck I need," Antonio said. "Do say hello to Francis," he added and regretted the words as soon as they were out.

The Head of the English House froze at that and turned his head enough to look Antonio right in the eye, "Come again?"

"He works at your house, doesn't he?" Antonio said, quirking a brow instead of swearing.

"I was unaware that the two of you were acquainted closely enough to send a hello through me," Arthur's tone was casual, but there was something dangerous lurking in his green eyes.

"Weren't you?" Antonio said, as casually as possible.

"Mm.  Well, I suppose it hardly matters.  I'll pass on your regards,"  Arthur offered a charming smile and a slight bow before he turned and exited, Cameron trailing after him but getting no answer to his questions of what had Arthur's posture rigid.

"Fuck," Antonio informed the PO boxes in front of him.


	11. We've Lived This Long

Arthur pushed the front door of the house open with enough force that it nearly bounced off the wall, Cameron following close on his heels and still trying to get an answer out of him for why fury was pouring off him.  The only response he ever got was cursing.  Arthur paused in the entryway and listened for the briefest of moments before storming into the front parlor and stopping in front of Francis.  He was half-conscious of the fact that his nephews were all in there as well, his attention focused entirely on the man in front of him, "You've been holding out on me, you son of a bitch."

"In my defense, I didn't know you wanted to have sex," Francis said flippantly as he desperately went through everything he'd done recently and how Arthur might have found out.

Arthur clicked the hidden catch on his cane and prepared to pull out the concealed sword, but caught himself at the quietest of sounds from Matthew.  His jaw tensed, "Antonio told me to say hello."

"Did he?" Francis replied, tone still mild as his stomach dropped. "And however is he doing?"

"He seems to be doing fine," Arthur grit out.  "What I can't determine is why the hell I haven't heard about this prior to today."

"Because it was my personal business, not yours," Francis replied, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch.

Arthur gaped at him, "You're in contact with the new Head of the Roman House and you didn't think that was _relevant_?"

"Well he's only been the Head a little while!" Francis protested.

"That bastard shot me, and killed the Head of this House seven years ago," Arthur snarled.

"Well technically he hadn't done that either yet," Francis muttered.

"What _else_ haven't you considered relevant information, Francis?"

"What do you mean?" Francis asked, eyes narrowed as he looked up at Arthur.

"I mean," the Head leaned down, bracing one hand on the back of the couch, effectively trapping Francis between it and the arm of the couch, "what else are you holding back.  Because from where I'm currently standing I have no reason to trust you and less reason to keep you alive for lying to me about this."

Francis' jaw threatened to drop. "You paranoid bastard. I technically never lied to you about it anyway. It was personal and had nothing to do with whatever schemes or issues you have."

Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously, "How long?"

"Eight and a half years, give or take," he replied, arms still crossed over his chest as he leaned as far back into the couch as he could go.

"Anyone else I should know about?"

"Gilbert," Francis said after a beat. "It was the three of us."

Arthur swore, pushing off of the couch and shaking his head, "You bastard."

Francis scowled at him. He knew that he was not supposed to push his luck but couldn't help it. "And how am I the bastard in this situation?"

"You've been meeting up with the guards of the German House and the Roman House for years and you didn't even bother to mention it," Arthur snarled.  "How loose does your tongue get when drunk, Francis?"

"Arthur—" Cameron started from the doorway.

"Stay the hell out of this, Cameron," the Head snapped, never taking his eyes from Francis.

"It's not about that," Francis ground out. "None of us are stupid enough to talk business."

"Then what is it, Francis?" Arthur asked, every muscle in his body tense, "Explain it to me."

Francis took a breath, running a hand through his hair. "It's still none of your business," he said. "But it was three people who were wrecking the same bar and decided to do it together instead of alone."

A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched, "And you can promise me that nothing was ever said that might have compromised this House?"

"If it had been, you would have already seen it," Francis snapped. "We were still figuring out what to do with Antonio when Gilbert got kidnapped and now we're all allied together anyway so what does it matter?"

Arthur shook his head, almost ready to leave but something occurred to him, "It's how you knew about Gilbert and Otho, isn't it?"

"As Ludwig and Gilbert have no sense of personal space when it comes to their phones," Francis said dryly. "It can be assumed any number Gilbert has access to, Ludwig will probably remember with his crazy head for numbers."

Arthur nodded once before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, Cameron nearly tripping over himself to get out of the doorway.  The elder Kirkland brother watched him go before shaking his head and entering the parlor, "That could have gone worse."

"There could have been death," Alfred added helpfully and Francis gave him a dark look.

Matthew sighed, "Not helpful, Al."

"Could have gone better, too," Cameron said, looking at Francis.

Francis turned the withering stare on Cameron before pushing himself to his feet. Sure he would regret it, he followed Arthur.

Matthew watched him go, "Should someone follow to make sure he doesn't end up dead?"

Cameron shook his head, "If Arthur wanted him dead he'd be dead."

"There is no way in fuck I am following," Alfred added. "I like my life and my limbs way too much."

Arthur, meanwhile, had made it up to his office, the door slamming shut behind him.  He fished his cigarette case out of his pocket and lit one up, considering his scotch and deciding he had too much still to do.

Francis almost ran himself into the door he knocked so solidly on it. "You might as well open up in there."

"It's not locked," Arthur snapped in response, his back to the door and his gaze fixed out the window.

Taking another breath, Francis pushed it open. "It still looked quite foreboding."

"Not that that's ever been a deterrent for you."

"Well no," Francis agreed, closing the door and leaning against it, arms folded over his chest again.

Arthur refused to turn around, focusing on something in the distance out the window, "What do you want, Francis?"

"Why are you so bothered?" Francis asked.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because I repeat that it has nothing to do with you, or for that matter, with this House," Francis replied.

"So instead I find out about it from Antonio."  He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he shook his head, "What else has nothing to do with me or the House?"

Francis paused, actually considering. "Nothing," he said. "Antonio probably didn't realize it was something to keep his mouth shut about."

"Do you give me your word on that?"

"Yes," Francis said. "For all the good it's likely to do."

Arthur sighed, looking down and considering the intricate rose vines carved into his cane before he spoke, "Do you know why I chose you as head of my Intelligence, Francis?"

"No," Francis admitted. "I always thought it was lack of choice."

"Well, that was certainly a factor, yes," Arthur replied, a mirthless smile tugging at his lips.  "But of the few choices I had you were the only one I trusted enough to be honest with me no matter what news you had to bring to me. I've no doubt Cameron would have been just as honest, but he's Cameron and my inclination to shoot him is directly related to how honest he's being with me."

"Something to do with family, eh?" Francis offered as if he had no idea how that went.

"Something like that.  My point is, Francis, that I found you trustworthy enough to consider you the first line of defense for this House.  You're my early-warning system."  His voice hardened again, "but by God you do not get to make the call about what is or is not relevant to this House, do you understand?"

Francis' entire face had shut down. "And if this had come up when you waltzed into becoming Head?"

"Then we would either be having a very different conversation or none at all," Arthur replied evenly.  "There are not many people that I trust with the safety of this House, but for some reason you're one of them.  And you have been for years before I even came to power.  Do not make me regret that trust."

For a moment Francis considered him. "You really do think you have that much control don't you?" he said after a beat. "If you handed me a gun and told me to shoot either of them I would refuse. But that doesn't mean I don't understand the world we live in and the checks and balances. I think we've all been waiting with baited breath for one of us to get killed and we'll mourn but the Houses always come first."

"And knowing that you've been going out drinking with them for the last eight and a half years makes me far less inclined to put you in a situation where you would be called upon to make that choice," Arthur said.  He paused for a long moment and finally turned to face Francis, "Do you trust them?"

"As much as one can," Francis said.

Arthur sighed and stubbed out his cigarette, even as he wanted to light another one off of it, "I hope that's founded.  We're acting as allies to the Germans, and by default to the Romans, so the point isn't one of too great a concern at this moment."

Francis considered again. "Do you know how it all started?"

"No, I was too focused on keeping Matthew and Alfred alive at that point."

"I always did figure that's why you did everything," Francis said with a small smile.

Arthur shrugged a shoulder and sank down into his desk chair, feeling far too tired, "If I asked, would you tell me?"

"I'm wondering if it would make you feel better or worse about the entire thing."

"That's not an answer," Arthur murmured.

"I'm still debating the wisdom of telling you," Francis joked. "But I find it very hard not to answer your serious questions."

That finally earned a weary smile, "If you're willing to tell me, I would like to hear it.  Perhaps it would help me understand."

Still leaning against the door, Francis considered. "We all ended up in the same bar by accident. The girl he'd been working with had just been killed and Antonio was in there trying to see how wrecked he could get on a fake ID—not like anyone was checking there. Gilbert had another fight with his grandfather I think, something about the honor of the family or whatever Otho liked to say. It was pretty obvious we were the three trouble makers that night. I think we got kicked out as a pack and decided to travel together to the next bar. I dimly recall getting into a fight with Gilbert about wine versus beer while Antonio drank whatever we put in front of him. And after that we somehow made sure everyone got home safely—Antonio chiefly and I was still slightly more sober than Gilbert."

Arthur considered that for a long moment, "And it continued from there.  Why were you there that night?"

Francis shifted slightly. "Don't you remember the fights we used to have back then?"

That earned a single blink from Arthur, "You were there because of one of _those_?"

"I think you're forgetting the fact I punched you in the face that time," Francis said, quirking his brows. "Which worked out fantastically until you decided to play dirty. I was nursing my wounded pride."

"There were several fights that year and you didn't specify it was that one," Arthur replied.  He did remember that one, he'd been sporting a bruise for more than a week after that altercation.

Francis hummed, shifting his shoulders. "Well, it was that one. I certainly had the least reason to drink myself to death but what can you do some days?"

"Did you ever sleep with either of them?"  Arthur managed not to wince as that question was spoken more abruptly and less disinterestedly than he would have liked.

For a moment Francis just stared at him before he suddenly threw his head back and laughed.

Arthur's jaw clenched at that, "I'll take that as a no?"

" _God_ no," Francis managed when he got his breath back. "Are you joking? Antonio's most common drunken whine is how Catholic he is and how in love with a boy. Gilbert tends to laugh hysterically at that point and say how awesome it is to be alone when really he's the loneliest person in the world and he hates it. So no, I haven't slept with either of them nor do I ever intend to."

Arthur's lips quirked upward into a faint smile, unwilling to admit the lessening of the jealousy he'd been feeling, "Well, I suppose that's something."

"Seriously, ask Antonio about how Catholic he is sometime," Francis said. "Or... actually, don't. Don't touch that with a pole."

"I try to keep contact with him to a minimum, it's better on my sanity," Arthur replied, reaching back and grabbing the most recent map he had been working on.

Watching him, Francis shifted so he finally moved away from the door. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Arthur stood to roll the map out on his desk, pinning the corners down as he glanced up at Francis, "I've been getting enough sleep, yes." He was lying, and he wasn't doing it very well.  His leg had been hurting again, his mind wouldn't shut off, and his back muscles were so tight that any time he lay down it took them a good thirty minutes before they relaxed enough that they weren't causing him pain as well so he had been averaging about two to three hours of sleep a night for the previous two weeks.

Francis just stared at him a moment before moving around the back of his chair. "Stay down," he said, hands moving to his shoulders and almost wincing. "How tense are you?"

Arthur flinched at the touch and tried to draw away, not wanting to go through the pain he knew would come from Francis working on the knots there.  He was too tense for it to work comfortably, "Get off."

"Shut up," Francis said. "You feel like a rock landed here, no wonder you're so incapable of sleeping."

Arthur tipped his head back to offer Francis a glare, "I'm sleeping just fine, thank you."  He really didn't want anyone in contact with his shoulders after seeing Sadiq so recently.  The difference in the touch was present, but he could feel his muscles relaxing and he wasn't certain how he felt about that.  He did, however, know that he did _not_ want Francis touching him.  He kept his control around the other man through long practice and prolonged contact was likely to break that.

"Bullshit," Francis said instead, pressing his fingers into the muscles, massaging them as gently as he could while still getting results. "This must hurt enough, whether you're sleeping or not."

Arthur considered his options even as he felt himself leaning into the touch.  It hurt very slightly but he knew that was the same pain he'd been having from the tension already there.  "I can't work while you do this," he muttered as though that was the reason he didn't want Francis' more than capable hands on his shoulders.  He cut that line of thought off before it could get started.

"You're overworking yourself anyway," Francis said. "Lean forward a little, would you?"

"I am not.  There's just so much that needs doing," Arthur protested before leaning forward without thinking about it.

Francis laughed. "And it will still be there in twenty minutes."

Arthur placed his hands on the desk, considering how much force it would take to shove the chair back and roll it over Francis' feet, "Maybe so."

"Just relax," Francis murmured. "It hurts to watch you right now."

"What do you care?" The question slipped out before he could catch it.

"Because I do," Francis said as if it was that simple.

Arthur frowned at that, trying to twist around to look at the other, though Francis' hands on his shoulders made that next to impossible, "That's hardly an answer."

"What, aren't a leader’s soldiers supposed to care about his health?" Francis asked, flippantly.

"You're massaging my shoulders to loosen the muscles there, this goes above and beyond the call of duty," Arthur managed.

"Lean forward more," Francis said instead, hands working on some of the lower knots.

Arthur crossed his arms on his desk and rested his chin on them, his eyes half-lidded, "Why are you doing this?"

"You've asked that five times already," Francis muttered. "Because I can, because you look like you need it. Because of however many more reasons. Just relax, Arthur."

"I have not asked that yet," Arthur protested, but it was half-hearted and he could feel himself relaxing.  His mind started to wander, focused mostly on Francis' touch on his back.

"Close enough," Francis said, voice getting softer.

Letting his eyes close, Arthur sighed, "I don't understand you."

Francis laughed softly. "It's only been ten years, Arthur. I hope I'd be a mystery that would last a lifetime."

"Ten years is a long time in this city," Arthur replied.

"Perhaps," Francis agreed. "But we've lived this long, haven't we?"

"Which just makes me wonder how much longer we've got."

Francis' hands stilled before he started moving again. "You were asking why I'd do this," he said after another long moment. "It's because I'd rather you not get yourself killed because you're too tense or sluggish to move quick enough."

Arthur was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a moment at that answer, his green eyes opening again, "My reflexes are fine, Francis."

"No, they aren't," Francis said. "And you need to sleep. Tea can only get you so far."

"I can't," the Head of the House finally admitted.

Francis sighed. "You can't sleep?" he asked, hands continuing down Arthur's back.

"Not for any length of time," the other murmured, focusing on nothing in specific, though Francis' hands kept distracting him and he knew this was going to do him little good in the long run.

"Why not?" Francis murmured, keeping his voice low as if that made it any more likely he might get an answer.

"My mind's too active when there's nothing else to focus on," Arthur answered.  "And my leg hasn't stopped hurting in weeks."

Francis breathed. "You should really get that leg massaged too," he said. "What did you used to do to sleep then?"

"Nothing to be done about the leg," Arthur responded with some finality.  "And I don't remember," curled up around Sadiq and focused on the other's scent and breathing until his mind cleared and he could sleep.

"There must have been something," Francis protested.

"It's nothing I can implement now," Arthur replied testily.

"You're so stubborn," Francis sighed, working back up his back now to make sure he'd smoothed out all the worst knots.

"Well it's not," Arthur all but snapped, though he had the feeling he was sounding petulant.

"Then what was it?" Francis pressed, leaning against his back as he worked.

Arthur's jaw tightened and he resisted the urge to roll his chair over Francis' feet again.  He did not want to have this conversation with the other man's hands on him, "I would curl up next to my lover and focus on them.  It kept my mind from wandering into what ifs."

Francis' hands froze again. "Oh," he said and continued what he was doing while pretending not to have heard that.

"As I said, it's out of the question now," Arthur said, resting his chin on the back of his hands and considering the map on his desk.

"I'm curious what ended that," Francis said though he knew he shouldn't have.

Arthur pursed his lips, gaze moving to the area of the city that belonged to the Mediterranean House, "I'm a manipulative bastard is what ended that."

Swallowing, Francis shrugged. "Perhaps you should really work on that then."

"I can't change who I am," Arthur murmured.  "I see a chance of an advantage and I take it.  I always have, and I probably always will."

"There are times when we can control our nature," Francis said, tone oddly prim when he stepped back, brushing his fingers along Arthur's shoulders. "There. That should do it."

Arthur sat up, rolling his shoulders and blinking, "Good god above, Francis."

"And that is why you need to relax more," Francis said, folding his hands across his chest.

"I'll admit you're right if you promise not to get smug about it," Arthur said, pushing his chair back and rising.  He glanced at Francis but turned his attention to plotting out territories and alliances on the new map.

"Except you've already admitted it, and I'm already smug," Francis replied.

"I suppose that's true."  He paused for a moment, considering the map with a frown, "Question for you.  If someone was to offer Braginski an alliance, who do you think it would be?"

"You're really concerned about him, aren't you?" Francis sighed. "I don't know if anyone would. If anyone, the Asians though."

"We've no idea of his strength.  Sadiq's the only one of us with any sort of an in over there and even he has no real idea."  He sighed, "I was afraid you'd say that.  We're in the same boat with them as well.  Yao's kept to himself so much that there's no conclusive information about their strength either."

Francis nodded and then paused. "When did you get on first name terms with the Head of the Mediterranean house?"

"A while ago," Arthur replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Right," Francis said, an idea he didn't much like worming into his mind. "Of course."

"That's the least relevant of the current concerns," Arthur remarked, but turned his attention to the map.

"Of course not. Would you like me to see what information we could get on the Russians or Asians?" he asked instead.

"If you would.  Don't stick your neck out too far for it, but we need that information."

"Of course," Francis said and paused, looking over. "Wait, didn't Cameron have ties to that boy... the only one who walked himself out of the Russian House?"

Arthur looked up and frowned, "I would not recommend sending Cameron in for that conversation.  Whatever you're thinking.  I very much doubt they're on any sort of speaking terms, whatever happened.  If we're going to use that route it certainly can't involve Cameron."

"Fair enough," Francis shrugged. "Point being, why hasn't anyone gone to talk to him yet?"

"It slipped our minds, it's a route to pursue though," Arthur mused.

"So far as I know, he's the only living person who's been in that House that's not currently trapped there."

"Then follow up on it."

"Sure," Francis shrugged. "Shall I leave you to your work then?"

"If you would," Arthur said, dropping his attention to the map and his notations.

Stepping out of the office and closing the door behind himself, Francis leaned against it for a moment. After a moment he moved away, stopping by the door to Cameron's room, mentioning looking into Feliks before moving on without waiting for a response.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Antonio's number before he really registered he had his coat and was heading out the door. "I'm sorry," Antonio said as soon as he picked up. "I didn't realize Arthur didn't know."

"It wasn't a secret I was actively keeping," Francis replied. "He just pointed the cane at me, it's fine. What do you say to getting really drunk?"

Antonio paused for a long moment, setting his pen down and rubbing a hand over his forehead. "I can get a little drunk," he offered. Things were different when he had the chance of coming home and finding Lovino waiting for him. He was no longer collapsing into his small and lonely bed.

"Just a little drunk?" Francis protested. "Because I would like to get really drunk."

"I can make sure you get home," Antonio teased. "You know, I'd never really realized that you were always the last to go home. Was that to avoid letting Arthur know where you were all night?"

"Yeah," Francis said, running a hand through his wavy blond hair.

Antonio leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen around. "Was he terribly annoyed? I mean, clearly you're alive but..."

"No, the drinking has to do with something completely different," Francis said and pulled at the strands of hair near his ears. "I also gave him a massage and he talked about his lover and I am the worst head of intelligence for not realizing my boss was sleeping with someone."

Head going back to the ceiling, Antonio paused. "Did you figure out who it was?"

"Not so much," Francis said. "So can we please get drunk? I mean, do you have plans later or something?"

"Sortta, yeah," Antonio murmured and Francis stopped moving.

"Seriously?" he managed. "You seriously... what sorts of plans? Moping about your little bodyguard?"

Antonio laughed, still looking up at his ceiling. "No, I was much more planning on screwing him into the mattress. It's much more productive than moping."

For a moment Francis just stared blindly at the sidewalk. "Seriously?" he said and Antonio laughed again. "Oh, _thank god._ ”

"Oi," Antonio protested. "I'm still Catholic. I'm a very bad Catholic but I still am."

Now Francis laughed. "You're a very bad Catholic indeed. At least let me buy you a celebratory drink then. You can even bring your little boy toy."

"You call him that to his face and I will not be responsible when he shoots you," Antonio said, laughing again. "I'll see you there then."

Lovino was just coming into Antonio's office in time to hear that, "See who where when?"

Clicking the phone shut, Antonio titled further back in his chair to grin at Lovino. "Francis. He has a desperate, probably somewhat jealous need to get very drunk."

"And you're going to join him at a bar?"  Lovino's eyebrows rose slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That was the intention," Antonio said, still grinning.

"You think I'm letting you go alone after the last fiasco?"

"No, which is why I already told him you were coming," Antonio said, capping his pen and rising slip a hand around Lovino's waist.

Lovino tensed at that and he blinked, "Well, then, we, we should go."

Pausing, Antonio glanced down at him. "Are you alright with this?" he asked.

"I'm not letting you go alone, so, so yes," Lovino nodded.

Glancing at the door, Antonio leaned down to kiss Lovino lightly. Lovino pressed into the kiss briefly before pulling away, "We should go."

Grinning as he drew back, Antonio nodded. "But don't worry. I don't intend to get too drunk tonight."

"Good.  I'd rather you be fully aware tonight, yeah?"  Lovino offered him a grin over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Which is exactly why I want to be aware," Antonio said, reminding himself that Francis needed him and he wasn't allowed to drag Lovino upstairs and bury his nose in his hair.

"Are you driving or am I?"

"Either," Antonio said, letting his hand trail along Lovino's waist as he passed him.

"I'll drive," Lovino said, grabbing a set of keys on the way out the door.

"Of course you will," Antonio laughed, reaching the car and directing Lovino to the bar that was Francis' favored retreat for heavy wine drinking. It was a shade run down but still respectable enough.

Stepping out of the car and considering the surrounding area, Lovino frowned very slightly. Antonio glanced over at him. "What's the matter?"

"Anticipating the number of shadows and corners is all.  Let's get inside."

"Unless someone followed us, it should be fine," Antonio said, holding his hand and leading him inside.

Lovino looked around the bar, immediately categorizing all the potential exits and how quickly any of them could be reached from a given location in the room. Letting him do so, Antonio moved through the bar until he found Francis who was already nursing a glass of wine. As they approached, Francis gave Lovino a long look. "You know, I've heard so much about you but I don't think I ever met you."

The younger man looked him over appraisingly before finally holding out a hand, "Lovino Vargas."

"Francis Bonnefoy," he said in reply, taking the hand and shaking it.

Lovino considered where the exits were again before taking a seat, "Drinking before your company arrived?  Are you sure that's wise?"

"You clearly do not understand the rules here," Francis replied and raised the glass. Antonio glanced between them and shrugged, ordering white sparkling wine for him and Lovino, intending to stick to the single glass.

Lovino shrugged, not really concerned by that fact, leaning back in his chair and watching the people around them. "So," Antonio said as he settled, trying to refrain from draping himself over Lovino. "You gave Arthur a massage?"

"He hasn't been sleeping," Francis muttered. "And is tense and moronic. Also, oddly, on first name terms with Adnan."

Antonio paused a beat, glancing at Lovino before back to Francis. "Um, were you the only person in town who didn't realize they were sleeping together?"

Lovino pulled his attention back at that, "Wait, you didn't know that?"

Francis stared at both of them with a slightly slack expression before downing the rest of the red wine in his glass. "No. Somehow, I remained blissfully unaware of that fact." On the other hand, it made a lot more sense now.

"It all went to hell a few months ago," Lovino supplied, sipping at the wine that had been put in front of him.

Francis groaned. "Of course," he muttered, already ordering another glass of wine.

"You know, one of you is eventually going to have to get over each other and make the first move," Antonio said, sipping his wine serenely and Francis gave him a baleful look.

Lovino glanced at Antonio and kept himself from saying the first six things that came to mind, settling on, "Before either of you gets shot."

"Oh, is that how you two finally got it on?" Francis asked and Antonio realized this might have been a very bad idea.

The Italian shrugged, though a faint blush colored his cheeks, "Not really your business."

"You have no idea," Francis drawled. "How many times, I have listened to his man," and he gestured with his glass to Antonio. "Talk into his cup about being bloody Catholic with possibly pedophiliac tendencies."

"That last part was not—" Antonio protested.

Lovino paled slightly at that, his hand clenching under the bar, "What?"

Antonio kicked Francis but he just kept going. "I mean, you are stunning. Suddenly I understand why puberty was so hard. It's not like we knew who you actually were or anything."

Jaw tensing at that, and keeping his gaze locked on Francis, Lovino reminded himself not to cause damage to Antonio's friend, "Oh you're charming."

"Most people think I am," Francis protested.

"No one thinks you are," Antonio returned. "We have an odd affection for you nonetheless."

Lovino shook his head, "Anyone who does is probably soft in the head."

Francis gave him a long look. "And yet somehow I find plenty of people to go quite willing to my bed."

"Because you're good at sex, not because you're charming," Antonio replied glibly and Francis groaned.

Lovino tensed further at that and shot Antonio a look, but kept his mouth shut.

"Not that I've ever understood your sex appeal anyway," Antonio added with a huff of breath and Francis groaned again.

"Uncouth cretin."

Some of the tension seeped out of Lovino's frame at that, and he turned back to Francis, "So if that's what Antonio used to bemoan, what brought you out for drinks?"

"His boss, usually," Antonio said. "Like tonight."

"Do you know he actually asked me if I slept with either of you?" Francis said, dropping his head to the table and Antonio suddenly laughed, almost hysteric. "That was my reaction too."

"Having watched the three of you around each other, it's not that big a leap," Lovino muttered into his drink.

Francis just groaned. "He's Catholic," he protested, pointing to Antonio. "You have no idea how many times I've heard that as a protest for why he couldn't sleep with _you_ , did you really think he'd ever sleep with another man?" Francis asked. "I mean, there were other things mumbled in there too about your grandfather and age differences but please. And we're not even talking about Gilbert. The thought, as much as I adore him, makes me shudder."

"He's not that bad," Antonio protested, bridge of his nose turning red at what Francis was saying.

Color rising in his cheeks again, Lovino shrugged, "I'm just saying. It's a question that follows seeing or hearing about the three of you."

"I can't imagine why," Francis groaned.

"Because we're mobsters and have no morals?" Antonio offered and Francis raised his glass.

"Cheers to that I suppose."

Lovino grimaced and shook his head.  "So you usually end up drinking about your boss.  You're not Catholic so you don't have that excuse.  So why don't you just deal with it?"

Francis muttered something about it being more complicated than that and the matter of him being a manipulative, standoffish bastard.

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Also, I think until like today, you thought he was straight, didn't you?"

"As much as any of us are," Francis muttered and propped his chin up on one hand. "Not that I don't fully believe love overcomes all barriers, biological or mental—stop giving me that look, Antonio—but... I don't want to lose what little we do have by stepping over a boundary or getting myself shot. Or stabbed with his cane."

"How long did he let you give him a massage?" Lovino pressed, considering the wine in his glass for a moment.

"Twenty minutes," Francis muttered.

Lovino blinked at that before glancing at Antonio, "That's standoffish?"

Antonio just shrugged, feeling a little helpless. "I find it's best not to ask," he replied, and hesitated before sliding a hand onto Lovino's thigh under the bar, not quite looking at him. The younger man tensed very slightly, but didn't draw away and relaxed again after a moment.

Antonio smiled faintly, rubbing his thumb in a circle as Francis started rambling off Arthur's faults and quirks and problems. Lovino swallowed hard, never having been good at sympathizing with people's complaints at the best of times and his focus was gradually narrowing to Antonio's hand on his leg rather than the blond man they were drinking with.

Used to Francis, Antonio kept nodded and making sounds at the right points with his attention happily divided. At one point though Francis paused, looking over at them and scowling. "I want to find you sickening, you know," he grumbled. "You, lovey dovey. I don't think I can handle it."

"Sorry," Antonio shrugged, not looking sorry at all.

Lovino blushed, but offered Francis a grimace, "So man up and talk to the guy you're moping over then."

Francis blinked. "I can't even imagine him being lovey dovey," he said, waving a hand vaguely.

"Which actually hasn't got much to do with what I just told you to do," Lovino muttered.

"It sortta does," Francis protested and Antonio smiled vaguely at him, hand still on Lovino's leg.

"So he's not lovey dovey or whatever the hell, so what?" Lovino reached down to trace over the knuckles of Antoino's hand without thinking about it.

Francis sighed again. "I'm still expecting him to kill me with a cane."

Lovino grimaced, "Is he worth it?"

"Worth death?" Francis asked, face twisting up.

"Yeah," the younger man replied, fingers tightening on Antonio's hand very slightly.

"I don't know yet," he said. "There's not a lot of things I think might be worth death."

"Okay, next question.  You honestly think he'd kill you for this?"

"Sometimes," Francis said, voice soft. "Sometimes I hope he wouldn't."

"Has he ever tried to kill you?" Lovino asked, not looking at Antonio.

"A few times," Francis shrugged.

"Well, that's not the end of all hope," Lovino said, turning back to his drink.

Francis gave him an odd look. "And how is that not the end of all hope?" he asked as Antonio tried not to laugh into his glass.

Lovino's lips quirked upward, "Because I attempted to kill Antonio when I was sixteen."

Blinking, Francis glanced over as Antonio gave up and laughed. "Alright, maybe not all hope," he amended finally.

"And that was after I figured out I was falling for him, too," Lovino smirked.

"Truly?" Francis asked in clear surprise. "How on Earth did that work then?"

"I have odd ways of coping with caring for people," Lovino answered with a shrug.

Francis turned his look on Antonio who just shrugged. "Is the way that it is," he said as if that explained everything he ever had wanted to be explained.

"Either way, I’m just saying that you might still have a chance, even if he has tried to kill you," Lovino shrugged.

Francis glanced back at Antonio, smiling ruefully. "You are far crazier than I ever gave you credit for," he said and Antonio just laughed again, hand on Lovino's thigh.

An hour later, Antonio and Lovino dragged a much more drunk Francis out of the bar, dropping him in the back seat.

Lovino got behind the wheel, glancing at Antonio, "English House?"

"Please," Antonio said, resting his head against the window as Francis continued to hum the song he'd started singing in the bar.

That earned a grimace from the guard, but he turned the car in that direction, "He usually like this when he's drunk?"

"Oh yes," Antonio said, not nearly so drunk as usual. "I'm usually worse off by this point. Did you know Gilbert can't sing on key though?"

"Somehow it surprises me that any of you can," Lovino replied.

"I can sing," Antonio protested quietly. "And not just when I'm drunk either."

Lovino glanced at him, "I don't think I've heard you sing, not for a long time at least."

The corners of Antonio's mouth twitched. "Because you kicked me and told me to stop sounding like a cat in heat." He paused for a moment, placing that with how old Lovino had been and grinned. "I'm starting to think it was for another reason now."

Lovino's cheeks flushed at that, "You're crazy."

"Sorry, did you like my singing too much?" Antonio teased. "Was that what was going on?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Lovino muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, though his lips twitched upward very slightly.

"I'll have to find my guitar and properly serenade you," Antonio smirked.

His blush got worse at that, "You're not serious."

"Entirely," Antonio just about purred and Francis groaned from the back seat.

"Oh my god you two, please stop."

Lovino smirked, glancing in the rearview mirror, "Sorry, are we bothering you?"

"Entirely," Francis said and Antonio laughed at him again. "Antonio, you're so mean sometimes..."

Lovino shook his head, "I don't know how accurate that is."

Antonio's smile turned slightly more strained but he pointed at where Lovino should pull over. "Keep the car running," he murmured. "I'll make sure he gets himself through the door."

Lovino pulled up to the curb, glancing at Antonio and nodding.  He was uncertain about letting the other out of the car in English territory, temporary truce or no.

"I'll be right back, and if there's trouble, I'll just use him as a shield," Antonio said, leaning over to kiss his check before slipping out and hefting Francis out of the back. Muttering about the threat of being used as a shield, he let himself be dragged up to the front door, Antonio hitting the doorbell with one elbow.

Arthur had been passing through the foyer on the way to brew himself a cup of tea and frowned, reaching for his gun as he opened the door.  He blinked once at the sight that greeted him before inclining his head to Antonio, "Thank you for seeing him safely back."

"Couldn't do much else," Antonio said with a sharp smile and Francis managed to move forward enough to support himself with the wall.

Offering the other Head a thin smile, Arthur nodded very slightly, "Good evening to you."

Waving flippantly and barely managing not to flip the other off, Antonio retreated quickly to where Lovino had the car running.

Lovino watched as Arthur dragged Francis inside and the door closed.  He glanced at Antonio, remarking dryly, "That looks like it'll end well for Francis."

"My hope is that he'll pass out before any major yelling happens," Antonio grinned over.

"Or he'll do something exceedingly stupid like try to kiss Kirkland and I can't see that ending well," Lovino replied, pulling away.  "Where to next?"

"Do you want to go home?" Antonio asked. "Because I'd like to wander a bit first."

Lovino shrugged, "We've been home a lot lately.  We could wander," it was far easier to say that when he could feel the weight of his two guns resting in their holsters.

"I suspect you are fully prepared," Antonio smirked over at him.

"Always," Lovino replied, his lips quirking upward.  "I say again, where to?"

The mall had a roof so Antonio directed him to a street filled with various shops that was thankfully on their own territory.

Lovino found parking and got out, his gaze immediately sweeping the street for possible ambush locations, "You know I don't think I've been on this street in a long while."

"I've always liked it here," Antonio said, curling his hand around Lovino's. It wasn't obvious but if anyone looked closely they would see well enough.

Blinking down at their entwined hands, Lovino nodded slightly, "Well, it seems a nice enough place.  Nice shops too."

Antonio glanced sideways at him, as if asking permission as they walked, feeling himself relax slightly at the buzz of people around them. He knew now that he should be wary of all strangers, but walking the streets and hearing and watching people soothed him in ways that places with walls did not.

Lovino, in contrast, grew fractionally more tense the more people they passed.  He had never cared for crowds, feeling too exposed when someone could pass close enough to kill and then disappear again.  His grip on Antonio's hand tightened unconsciously.

Smiling faintly, Antonio glanced over at him and squeezed his hand in some reassurance. Seeing a shopkeeper he knew, he stopped for a moment, checking in to make sure the area was mostly quiet and the mechanics of what passed for law were still in place.

Keeping part of his attention on the conversation Antonio was having, Lovino let his eyes drift to the things the shopkeeper had for sale.  Nothing really caught his eye and he blinked once, looking down along the street.  None of the shops really stood out, there were signs that differentiated them, but beyond that it was the displays that were meant to catch attention, even as the street as a whole seemed to fade into the background of the people around it.  He wasn't quite certain how he felt about that, it seemed like a place that it would be easy to lose oneself in.

Smiling at the shopkeeper, Antonio kept going. "I used to come here a lot," he said, tone idle. "Usually when I had a bad day."

"Did you have many of those?" Lovino asked quietly, stepping closer to Antonio briefly to avoid colliding with a man who wasn't paying attention to where he was walking.

"They came and went," Antonio said, wanting to pull him closer by the waist but that would be more obvious than holding hands. "I used to come on good days too," he said. "I liked watching the people."

Lovino considered that, frowning very slightly, "So you came down to people watch?"  It wasn't a concept he'd ever fully grasped the appeal of.  If he was observing people it was usually to assess them as a threat or not.

"Yeah," Antonio said with a grin. "You're not the type to do that are you?"

"Not beyond figuring out if they're likely carrying a weapon or three," Lovino admitted.

Antonio's mouth quirked up and he paused, stopping in front of one of the shop windows.

Lovino stopped next to him, glancing up at the Spaniard and then to the shop window.  He hesitated at the sight of the rings displayed there.

Considering one of the rings intently, Antonio finally tore his gaze away to look at Lovino. "What were we talking about?" he asked.

"People watching.  How I don't do it," Lovino answered, looking away from the plain gold band in the window.

"Right," he said, running a finger along Lovino's right index finger. He glanced back at the window, seeming to consider it.

Lovino flexed his hand at Antonio's touch, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Antonio spoke. "That I'd like to have something of mine on you. But it's not..." he started.

"I could wear that gold one," Lovino cut in, nodding to the band he had been considering.  "If it fit of course, though it wouldn't be too difficult to have someone resize it."

Antonio opened his mouth, about to say it looked like a wedding ring and snapping it shut again. "If you would," he offered quietly, still not sure how to ask Lovino for anything.

"Unless there's another one you think would be better?" Lovino asked, an edge of uncertainty in his tone.

"I think it's very beautiful," Antonio murmured, glancing sideways at him. "A lot like you actually."

Lovino felt the color rise to his cheeks at that, "I was thinking it was actually more on the plain and practical side, but we can go with beautiful."

"Simple and strong," Antonio said, leaning their shoulders together. "All gold is beautiful."

"Are we still talking about the ring?" Lovino asked, not taking his eyes off of the band.

Antonio pressed closer. "Yes and no. Why it suits you perhaps."

Lovino took a step away, heading for the door to the shop, "Well, then let's see if it'll physically fit."

Grinning after him, Antonio didn't let go of his hand. "I'm sure it will," he said happily.

Offering Antonio a faint smile, Lovino entered the store and they were almost immediately approached by the shopkeeper who gladly fetched the ring for them.  Lovino picked the band up carefully, considering its weight and shine for a moment before extricating his hand from Antonio to try it on.  It fit the first finger of his right hand perfectly, which meant that it would probably need to be sized down fractionally if he intended to wear it on one of his ring fingers instead.

Antonio couldn't help caressing the ring before pulling it back off and turning to the shopkeeper. Lovino felt a shiver run down his spine at that, mentally shaking himself and turning his attention to the shopkeeper as well. 

The clerk looked at Antonio, "It's a fine ring, well worth its price."

Antonio just laughed at that, more than willing to pay any price considering the amount of money at his disposal and how rarely he spent it. "Of course it is," he said, handing over one of the several credit cards he carried. "Solid gold, isn't it?"

Running the card and handing it back along with the slip for Antonio to sign, the man nodded, "It is.  24 karat."

"Then I'm sure there's no problem with the price," Antonio said with a vague smile.

Placing the signed slip in the register, the shopkeeper put the ring in a small velvet box and closed it, handing it to Antonio, "Have a good night, gentlemen."

"You as well," Antonio said, waving before stepping back out onto the street, lifting the ring from the box and holding it up as he considered it.

Lovino paused next to him, looking from the ring to his lover and back, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Antonio said, turning toward him and putting the ring back on Lovnio's hand, lifting it to kiss his knuckle.

Blinking at him, Lovino felt himself blushing again, "Thank you for the ring, Antonio."

"I'd marry you if I could," Antonio said softly, so quiet he almost couldn't be heard.

Lovino froze at that, looking up at Antonio, his hazel eyes searching the other's face as he tried to find some indication as to how to take that.  Some part of him wanted Antonio to be joking or exaggerating or something, but he saw no indication of that.  He paused for the briefest of moments before leaning up and actually kissing the other man there on the street, "Should I get it resized for that finger, or would that be, would that be too much?"

Antonio felt a laugh bubble up deep in his chest and he buried his face into the side of Lovino's neck, arms around his waist. "We should get home," he managed. "And talk about it. It would make you a target."

The younger man pushed him back far enough to look at him, "You do remember the part where I'm your bodyguard which means that I'm a target, or the thing they go through to get to the target already, don't you?"

"It's different," Antonio said, suddenly more aware they were on the street. "When there's an emotional tie."

Lovino opened his mouth to argue that point, but remembered where they were and shook his head, "We need to talk about this at home.  Come on."

Antonio slid his hand against Lovino's again and moved quickly toward the car, fairly certain he should have kept his mouth shut.

They got back to the house in relatively short order, though the drive passed in silence as Lovino tried to sort out his thoughts and arguments.  Dropping the keys for the car where they belonged, he took the stairs up to Antonio's suite, pausing at the door. Following behind him, Antonio seemed to pause a moment too before pushing the door open and closing it behind them. "I did mean it."

"The part about the emotional tie? The only difference with where I wear the ring is that other people would know it too," Lovino shook his head.  "Antonio, my job is to keep you safe, to keep you alive. And we have an emotional tie, so I don't know what you think is going to be so vastly different."

"I meant I'd marry you, but yes, that too," Antonio said, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're supposed to keep me safe, I do. But... if the world knew it wouldn't just be about hurting you to get through to me it would be hurting you to hurt me specifically. It would be kidnapping you not as a bodyguard but as emotional collateral. I just..."

Lovino sank down on the bed near Antonio, "We're not going to be able to keep us a secret from the other Houses either way."

"There's a difference between being my husband and being a bed-warmer," Antonio said and froze when he realized what he said. "But you're not the latter," he added quickly. "But I'd rather people think that than realize—"

Lovino looked at him sideways, his expression unreadable, "Than realize what I actually mean to you.  So what you're saying is for our sakes and the sake of the House we need to make this look like less than it is."

Reaching out, Antonio lifted his hand with the ring, kissing it again. "There's only one other person I ever thought I loved, Lovino. And they died while I was watching. I'd rather you realize what you mean to me and no one else."

Fingers tightening against Antonio's hand, Lovino finally nodded, "Then, then we'll make sure that no one else knows."

"I do love you," Antonio said, leaning against his shoulder. "It's why I said I would marry you if I could..."

"And I'd say yes if I could," Lovino replied, reaching up to trace his hand through Antonio's hair.  "I just," he sighed, looking at the ring, "it's good to know you care."

"Good," he murmured, threading their fingers together again. "That was the point."

The younger man paused briefly before leaning in and gently kissing Antonio, "I don't deserve you."

Antonio's eyes widened and he rested their foreheads together. "Please never think that."

"You're, you're amazing, Antonio," Lovino murmured, resting his hand against the other's cheek. "I'm learning not to think like that, I can promise that much."

That earned a grin from him. "Good," he said, pulling Lovino closer by the waist. "Then I'll just keep working to convince you."

Lovino shifted around to straddle Antonio's lap, "I look forward to that."

He dug his fingers into Lovino's hips, tilting his head back. "I don't give up easily," he murmured. "I will make you believe me."

"I don't doubt that," Lovino replied quietly, resting his hands against Antonio's shoulders.

Hand coming up to cover Lovino's on his shoulder, Antonio pulled him down to kiss him, licking into his mouth with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, so I've been trying really hard not to beg for reviews, but I'm going to break that pattern and do so for this chapter. It's been a really rough couple of weeks for your authors as we get settled in a new state for the summer with a ridiculously long drive between us for the duration (the longest this has happened to us since we met) and we really appreciate hearing from you. It cheers us up and makes our days a bit brighter knowing someone took the time. 
> 
> So I'm asking, for both myself and Victoriousscarf, if you could please just take a moment to let us know what you think and hit that "comment" button we would really appreciate it and we do our best to reply to every review we get. It doesn't need to be extensive. Thank you all for reading and we hope you're enjoying it as much as we are!


	12. A Striking and Impressive Feat

A light knock came at the door to Ivan's study and Eduard stepped inside, glancing in Gilbert's direction before turning his attention to Ivan, "Sir?  Mr. Yao Wang is here to speak with you?"

From his position on the couch Gilbert's eyes widened and Ivan tilted his head in confusion. "Is he? What for?" he asked.

"He said it had to do with the fact that half the city is allying themselves against you," Eduard answered quietly, poised near the door.

Ivan's brows went up and Gilbert wanted to start swearing, clambering to his feet to get out of the room before he heard anything—not that he didn't want to know what was going on, but he'd rather keep the tenuous peace that allowed him to heal than give anyone an excuse to break his ribs again.

Ivan beat him to his feet. "It's fine," he said. "I'll meet Mr. Wang upstairs in the office. Please ask Mr. Winter to look after Gilbert, da?"

"Of course, sir," Eduard bowed and exited, pausing long enough to relay Ivan's instructions to Winter before returning to where he had left the Head of the Asian House to escort him up to Ivan's office.

Already sitting behind the rather imposing desk, Ivan looked up like he'd been working there for a while when the door opened. "Mr. Wang," he greeted.

Yao waited until Eduard had departed before inclining his head to Ivan, "Mr. Braginski."

"Is there anything you would like?" Ivan asked and gestured to the chair in front of him.

Taking a seat, the other shook his head, "Just to talk, thank you."

"Talk is certainly something I can give," Ivan said, smiling across the desk. "What would you like to talk about?"

"The power shift in the city, if that is to your liking," Yao replied, hands folded in his lap.

"To some extent," he rolled his shoulders. "I did not expect so much out pouring of support though! I suppose it just means no other House really likes me much, comparatively."

"I think it is more they fear what you are capable of, and hope to prevent that," Yao said frankly.

"It ends in the same place, da?" he said with a shrug. "And what about you? How does the balance of power suit you?"

"I think that it makes me uncomfortable to see those four Houses allied together.  The Germans and English have never had qualms about taking what territory they can, nor have the Romans.  To see them all in accord is not something I care for."

"You have never been fond of the English, have you?" Ivan continued to smile, folding his hands under his chin. "And you think I would be less frightening?"

"I have no love for the English, that is commonly known."  Yao considered the other Head for a long moment, "No.  I think you are considerably more frightening.  However, I have no desire to fight against you.  Nor have I any desire to ally myself with those who would betray their words as I know more than one of those Houses has done."

"Like the Germans," Ivan said and he sounded far less amused than he had moments before. "What did you have in mind then?" he asked, bounding back into his vacant smile.

"An alliance of our own.  Not a neutrality pact, those are far too easily broken.  Neither of us has made our strength known for many years, and that is an advantage we have that they do not.  We also have been in our position for more than a decade each, which means power-struggles within our houses are not a concern—the same cannot be said of the Germans or the Romans at the moment."

Ivan's smile turned cold. "No, you cannot say that of either of them. It is amusing to watch Houses that play their hands scramble like that." He paused for a beat, tilting his head. "I have never offered nor been offered an alliance before. What do you want from it?"

The Head of the Asian House considered the younger man for a long moment, "A guarantee that my territory remains mine.  Just as yours will remain yours.  An agreement that should either of us be attacked the other will aid them as best they can—without endangering their own territory."  He paused, "And should the opportunity arise, Kirkland himself is mine to deal with."

For a long moment Ivan just considered him. "You don't like Kirkland?" he asked, though of course he'd heard about the turf war that had gone down several years ago that pitted the two against each other.

"He attempted to poison me before he came to power," Yao replied.  "And that is disregarding the number of times our border has changed between us."

Ivan didn't quite laugh but his smile changed. "I think I once heard it said that the only person he hated more than Carriedo was you. I suppose now that they've allied it makes sense you would look elsewhere for allies of your own."

"Carriedo is too recently come to power, regardless of whether they had allied together or not," Yao responded, shaking his head.  "I would hardly risk an alliance with him until I knew he had his House in order."

"Considering he got himself shot by his own underlings?" Ivan said, still smiling. That had never been an issue with Ivan, as any danger he might have faced as a fifteen-year-old running a mob had been brutally put down within days.

"Exactly," Yao's lips curved upward finally.  "It would take him surviving at least three years before I would so much as look at him as a possible neutrality agreement, much less an alliance."

"It certainly did not take me three years to consolidate power," Ivan said but inclined his head.

"No, and that was a striking and impressive feat," Yao responded, his hands unfolding as he brushed a piece of lint from his off-black pants.

Ivan's smile turned less vacant and a bit more flattered. "And what guarantees do I have of such an alliance?"

"What guarantees would you like?"

He lifted his shoulders, actually unsure what was appropriate to ask for. "I would just rather not be tricked again."

"I too have been on the receiving end of a power manipulation.  I can offer you nothing more than my word on the fact that you will not find yourself in another situation of that sort.  I know it is not much, but I have never yet broken my word, and I would hardly start doing so with a man of your stature and a House such as yours," came the steady response, Yao keeping his attention fully focused on Ivan.  "Your territory and control will remain yours in its entirety; I have no desire for it.  And this alliance will not be utilized to manipulate for a lowering of your guard.  We are dangerous men, and I would be a fool indeed were I to come to you with trickery or malice in my heart."

Ivan really thought it was too bad that hostages were no longer exchanged. "But we would support each other if attacked?"

"We would," Yao agreed.

"What of trade negotiations?" Ivan asked, leaning back slightly though his hands were still braced under his chin.

Yao went completely still for the briefest of moments before he smiled, trade was where he usually ended up shorted in these agreements, "What would you see as reasonable in that area?"

"Whatever you like," Ivan replied, smiling. "I'm sure it could be mutually beneficial. I have plenty of weapons and manpower and yet," he paused. "Technology seems hard to come by. People seem very adverse to trading it."

"Manpower and technology I have, though I find difficulty in trading for heavier weaponry.  Perhaps we can reach an agreement as regards my House's technology for your weaponry?"

"I'm sure we'll find something," Ivan agreed. "But are you quite certain you want to put yourself at such odds with the other Houses?"

"I would not be here were I not certain of my decision," Yao answered with a smile.

The corner of Ivan's mouth twitched. "Good. I would rather you be sure than let anything go wrong later."

Yao rose, straightening his suit coat and withdrawing a small business card from the left pocket.  He set it on Ivan's desk, "The number where I can be reached.  Have you any further concerns regarding an alliance?"

"I believe we should make sure to talk it out before signing anything," Ivan said. "But I believe it shall be perfectly beneficial."

"A wise suggestion."  Yao inclined his head to Ivan, "I shall let you return to your work, and be on my way."

"I'll look forward to hearing from you," Ivan said, always a little unsure how to do pleasantries.

"Good day," Yao offered a respectful bow and exited, arching an eyebrow at Eduard who was waiting a good distance down the hall to show him out.

For a long moment, Ivan stared at the door, considering the idea of an alliance and what he knew of Yao. After a while he turned his attention to the reports and files that had gathered on his desk. He'd been spending too much time in the parlor with Gilbert, he realized, considering how much had built up without him to look at it.

A short while later a hesitant knock came at the office door.

"Come in," he commanded, frowning down at one of the reports in front of him.

Toris entered, carrying a tray with Ivan's lunch balanced on it.  He closed the door before approaching the desk, "I, I brought your lunch."

"That's very kind of you," Ivan said, turning a pen around in his hands.

Setting the tray down on the desk, Toris took a step back, his gaze focused on Ivan's chin as usual, "Is there anything, anything else I can, can get you?"

Ivan held up the report he'd been looking at. "Say, Toris, why would Feliks go to the German House?"

Toris froze at that, blinking at the piece of paper and mentally cursing, "I, I don't, I don't know."

"Really?" Ivan asked, tone bright and his eyes shut as he grinned. "That's surprising."

"We're not in, in that much contact any, any more. I, I don't know what, what goes on in his head," Toris murmured, eyes focused on the report.

"Right after you spent the afternoon with him?" Ivan asked, opening his eyes to observe Toris' face. He didn't actually believe the two rarely spoke.

Toris paled almost imperceptibly, "I, I don't, I don't know."

"Are you quite certain?" Ivan asked again.

"I may, I may have mentioned that, that Gilbert was, was alive and, and healing.  That, that's all I, I can think, can think of," he could feel his panic spiking and he needed to get out of the room, but he couldn't do that until granted permission, not in the current situation.

"That was rather forward of you," Ivan remarked, tone idle.

"He, he asked how, how I was.  I, I told him I was, I was relieved due to that, that fact.  Or rather, the, the fact that Gilbert was, was healing," Toris knew he was trembling and it was taking all his will not to step back further.

"I hope he would not have been stupid enough to take that information elsewhere," Ivan said, about to stand up before remembering that Toris had brought him lunch. Instead he pulled the food toward him. "Say, would you lend me your phone?"

Toris watched him warily, praying he'd heard wrong, "M-my phone?"

Ivan nodded, looking happy enough. "Da, your phone."

The brunet hesitated for the briefest of moments before withdrawing his cell and setting it down next to the tray on the desk.

"Thank you," Ivan said brightly. "I'll be sure to get it back to you by tonight."

"Is, is there anything, anything else, sir?" Toris managed.

"I don't think so," Ivan said, grinning as he ate. "Did you make the food today? It's very good."

"I-I did.  I'm, I'm glad you like it.  E-Eduard will be back for your tray in, in a little while."

"Thank you," Ivan said, tone edging into false as he spoke. "It was very kind of you to bring the food."

Toris bowed and retreated quickly.  He kept himself as calm as he could as he returned to the kitchen to find Eduard preparing Gilbert's lunch tray, "I, I'll take that to him today."

Eduard looked at him like he'd lost his mind, maybe he had, "I thought the point of me serving his meals was to minimize your required contact with him."

"It, it was.  Is.  It is.  But you, you're going to collect Ivan's tray in a little bit."

"Which doesn't interfere with me dropping this off for the German now."

"Well, no, no it doesn't, but I just," he looked around for the plant he had managed to obtain and picked it up.  "I was going to give him this and," he forced himself to keep his voice steady at the thought of the man who had originally suggested the plant, "and I missed his last dose of, of medicine because of, of the Head of the Asian House's visit."

Eduard still looked skeptical but shrugged, "You're welcome to it then.  It's all the same to me.  Why a plant though?"

"He, he seems lonely and a plant's less work than an animal."  Toris picked up the tray and left before Eduard could ask anything else.  Why had he risked so much and stupidly asked Feliks to risk it as well for the German?  He balanced the tray in shaking hands and opened Gilbert's door as he figured it out.  It was sympathy for the man who would risk his own life just to hear his brother's voice.  That was something Toris could understand and it made Gilbert seem more human.  Not that it did Toris or Feliks any good. 

He pushed the door closed with his hip and crossed to the bed, "I'm, I'm sorry I missed your, y-your last dose of medicine."  He unfolded the legs of the tray efficiently and set it across Gilbert's lap, whisking the plant off of the tray.

Gilbert scowled at the tray, hating how lazy and weak it implied he was before he registered who was there. "That's unexpected," he said and frowned. "There's a plant?"

"I had, had mentioned the idea of one," Toris replied, not looking at Gilbert as he considered the best place to set it and finally ended up just putting it on the bedside table.

"This house has an odd fascination with plants," Gilbert remarked and looked from the plant to Toris. "What're you doing here anyway?"

"Bringing your lunch and pain medication," Toris answered, turning the plant slightly to give himself something to focus on before he withdrew the bottle of medicine and rattled the requisite number of pills into the cap, placing them on the tray.

"Thanks for that," Gilbert said, once again hating the fact he had to take any. "Say, any idea when I can be done with that? And possibly eat lunch like a real human being again?"

"The pain killers?  I've been lowering the dose for a week now, you could be off of them in another week probably.  As to anything else, that, that depends on, on Ivan."  He felt a spike of panic at the thought of his boss, and tried to pull it back under control.

Grinning at that news, Gilbert paused, looking at him. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Toris drew a steadying breath and shook his head, "It, it's nothing."

"Yeah, sure looks like it," Gilbert said, pausing before handing out a piece of his lunch. "Please sit down before you tremble your way through the floor."

Toris sank into the chair by Gilbert's bed and buried his face in his hands, murmuring, "I think I may have gotten Feliks killed."

"Does this have something to do with what you asked me the other night?" Gilbert asked as he absorbed that.

"I, I'm still breathing so, so I doubt Ivan knows about that.  But, but there was a report of Feliks going to, to the German House," He curled his fingers in his hair, pulling just enough to exert pressure and give himself something to focus on.

"Do you think Ivan would kill him for that?" Gilbert asked, working his way steadily through the meal in front of him even as he felt his instincts go on alert. He was ready to face down a problem and find a way to solve it and the fact he was still confined to a room with General Winter of all people outside made his skin itch.

"I don't, I don't know," Toris sighed.  "I think it's not, it's not an impossibility."

"Have you warned him?" Gilbert asked, staring at the wall.

"I _can't_.  Ivan, Ivan took my phone.  And, and the House phones are, are tapped."

"What about one of your brothers? Or whatever they are," Gilbert said.

"I don't know that their phones are clean either," Toris murmured.  "I knew mine was, but that, that's not going to be true anymore.  And Eduard wouldn't let me use his phone if it involves Feliks, and I can't, I can't risk anything happening to, to Raivis."

Gilbert frowned at him. "How the fuck did you ever even end up in this situation?"

"It was where Feliks and I landed.  I ended up in the main House and now know too much to get out.  Feliks knows quite a bit, but, but he's been out long enough that most, most of it isn't immediately damning."

"Yeah, but," Gilbert frowned. "How long have you and Feliks even come together anyway? And how'd you end up here in the first place?"

"We, we were in the orphanage together.  Like I said, this is where we ended up when we, when we left there," he was finally feeling like he had himself under some control again.

"Shitty place to end up," Gilbert said, watching him. "I'm sure he'll be fine," he added, fairly certain those were universal words of comfort.

Toris offered him a wan smile, "Of course he will. It's not like I just shoved him into danger after he's been doing pretty well at staying out of it."  He sighed, "I should, should go before people start looking for me.  I think I can, can see them without hyperventilating now."

"If things get too bad," Gilbert started and considered. "Well, you might consider getting out."

That earned an even weaker smile, "My definition of too bad is skewed.  But I might consider it."

"If you need it," Gilbert said, fiddling with the tray. "The offer should be good for a while."

He searched his memory for the right German words as he nodded, "Danke schön."

Gilbert's brows shot up and he felt homesick like a punch to his stomach. "Yeah, well, that might be pre-emptive," he said. "But you know, it's there."

"The fact that it's there at all means a lot.  I'll be back later with your evening dose," Toris inclined his head and slipped out to make certain his work was done.

"Thanks," Gilbert said to the closed door and sighed.

o-o-o

Feliks frowned at his door, wishing he lived in a place classy enough for a peephole at the sound of the knock. Pushing his hair out of his eyes he set the plant back down on its stand from where he'd been watering it before opening the door. "Yeah?" he asked and froze at the sight of Ivan smiling at him.

Before he could even think of slamming the door—the place had a fire escape he might be able to get out—Ivan's hand shot out and caught the door. "Can I come in?" he asked, grin on his face and Feliks swallowed hard before stepping back.

"Sure. To what do I owe this like, total displeasure?"

Ivan just continued smiling. "It always interests me, the sort of life you build for yourself here," he said, looking around. "Nice plant, da?"

Feliks closed the door for lack of a better option. "Please don't make me throw my own plant out. I like it but if you start complimenting it, it'll like, have to go."

When Ivan laughed he just scowled more. "I think I've missed having you around," Ivan said, stepping forward and Feliks quickly shuffled backward. "So honestly stupid."

"Well at least I'm honest, right?" Feliks snapped, squaring his shoulders. "So what do you want? You never just come out here."

Ivan paused, holding one elbow with one hand while his fingers tapped his mouth. "Why did you go to the Germans?"

Eyes widening in alarm, Feliks realized he'd accidently backed himself into the wall and winced. He was totally out of the habit of avoiding Ivan and his anger and he made the stupidest rookie mistake. "I don't—" he started and it didn't even surprise him when Ivan moved faster than he should have, boxing Feliks against the wall with his arms and bulk. "I don't know why it's your business," Feliks finished, refusing to look down. "It was just for work."

"Work?" Ivan asked, no longer smiling.

"Work," Feliks repeated. "Where I have a name tag and everything. There was some fucked up delivery to the German House and they asked me to check it out, to make sure it was alright."

"At night," Ivan pressed and Feliks shrugged, the motion tight so he wouldn't touch Ivan.

"I was off and they wanted it done, you know how annoying bosses are," Feliks said and braced himself just in time for the punch to his stomach. Sagging against the wall he locked his knees to stay up, refusing to look away from Ivan's face.

"So have you gone back to your whorish ways?" Ivan asked instead. "Eager to please whoever has power over you?"

Feliks barely didn't laugh. "You'd know about that, wouldn't you?" he said and grinned as Ivan's eyes darkened.

"You were very good at it," he drawled and Feliks' expression turned murderous in the blink of an eye. "Even though you hate it. You really should play to your strengths, you know."

"I'll bite your cock again," Feliks said and Ivan finally smiled again, leaning back.

Sliding one hand into the pocket of his dark suit, he raised the other one to his white scarf. "I never did figure out what you thought you were getting out of that."

Feliks' shoulders tensed. He'd hoped to distract Ivan from Toris only it hadn't worked well, as Ivan had just seemed unduly confused by the entire process and why it was happening. "It seemed like an idea at the time, so whatever."

"Feliks," Ivan said after a moment. "I hope you understand that if I find out you've gone to the Germans with information, or because Toris dropped hints about Gilbert, I will kill you, da?"

"You don't have power over me anymore, I don't belong to you!" Feliks snapped and slammed his own back into the wall when Ivan took a step forward again. It was a knee jerk reaction and the look on Ivan's face made him stop breathing.

"I still have the power of life and death over you," Ivan said, smiling as he touched the side of Feliks' face with the back of his hand.

Feliks swallowed hard, knowing that to retreat would just make things worse. "I have no interest in helping the Germans, least of all that bastard albino," he said, glad that at least his voice wasn't shaking. "I only hate you more than I hate him."

"Good," Ivan said, stepping back again and Feliks could breathe. "Then we have an agreement, I'm sure."

"Like, sure," Feliks said, looking down and away.

"It's always good to see you," Ivan all but chirped and let himself out.

o-o-o

Eduard frowned when one of the House phones rang and he picked it up, "Hello, who is this?"

"Dude, please tell me Toris is there," Feliks said. He'd dragged the phone over to where he was collapsed on the floor.

"Feliks?"  Eduard sounded confused and just about jumped out of his skin when Toris snatched the phone from his hand.

"Feliks?"  Toris' voice held a note of fresh panic.

"Dude, I want an apartment with like, a peephole," Feliks said, sounding almost hysterical but holding himself down.

Toris braced himself against the wall, waving Eduard off, "Are, are you alright?  Are you, are you hurt?"  Eduard paused before he left, tapping the table three times and earning a nod from Toris.

"No dude, I'm fine," Feliks said, running a hand through his head. "Not hurt. But I figured you might be, you know, climbing the wall."

"Th-thank God," he drew a steadying breath, trying to find something he could safely say when he knew the phone was tapped—Eduard having been kind enough to confirm it.

"It's fine," Feliks repeated. "Toris, it's fine."

"Yes, yes, it's, it's fine.  You're fine.  I'm fine.  Everything's fine."  He was proud of himself for not sounding hysterical when he spoke.

"Yeah," he said. "I figured that if you heard you'd just freak out so I thought I'd you know, like, nip that in the bud."

"Right, yes.  I," he paused for a long moment.  "How did you know to, to call the House phone?"

Feliks hummed, not wanting to admit the fact that Toris had not called him indicated he either hadn't known or he'd lost his phone. "I dunno. Just a feeling."

Toris could guess at what went unsaid and nodded very slightly, "An accurate one.  Thank, thank you for calling."  A knock echoed through the line from Feliks' end and Toris froze, "Please, please tell me I imagined that, that sound."

"Sorry," he said and hung up the phone quickly so that neither Toris nor Ivan would hear who was on the other side. Pushing himself back to his feet, he arranged his hair quickly, hating the fact it felt like it was haloing out from how many times his head had hit the wall or his hands had run through it.

Toris stared at the phone in horror before placing it back in the cradle and nearly collapsing against the wall, every scenario he imagined worse than the next.

Matthew stood on Feliks' doorstep and glanced over him when the door opened, "I'm sorry, I've come at a bad time, haven't I?"

"Today seems the day to have guests," Feliks replied dryly and frowned. "Who are you?"

"Matthew Williams," he'd adopted his mother's maiden name under Arthur's insistence. 'Kirkland' was too well known in the city and it gave one extra level of removal.

"Which House are you from?" Feliks asked as the name hadn't help place the other at all. "And, while we're here, what do you want?"

"English," Matthew admitted, looking like he wanted to say any number of other things—a look he had long since perfected.  "I was hoping to talk to you."

Feliks tensed, remembering the one time he'd had to deal with the English House, right after he'd gotten out of Ivan's hold. "What? Why?" he said, still blocking the door. Panic clawed up in his throat.

Matthew blinked twice behind his glasses, "We were hoping you could help us."  He glanced around, hating how open the conversation was, but knowing that this situation called for offering the other a retreat.  He simply dropped his tone, "We're trying to undermine the Russian House, but there's no knowledge to be found of them."

"With damn good reason!" Feliks nearly yelped, looking up and down the hallway as if expecting Ivan to reappear instantly to ask what the English House was doing talking to him. He could almost hear Ivan's voice asking, "Just business again, da?"

Matthew raked a hand through his hair and sighed, "So there's absolutely nothing you can tell me?"

"Yeah, cause I'm really looking to get myself killed after being threatened once today," Feliks replied.

The other man shrugged, "It was worth checking.  I wish you luck in this city, and in avoiding further threats."

Feliks was still looking up and down the hall, finally focusing his eyes back on Matthew. "You give up easily."

"I'm not good enough to talk you into betraying the House that used you for years and still has your friend in its grasp.  It would help us in bringing them down, and Arthur's probably paranoid enough that you could be guaranteed safety from us if you needed it, but if you're not inclined to take a risk to find freedom from those threats then I'm not someone who has the sort of words to convince you otherwise," Matthew's voice was an undertone and his attention was focused on the hall around them.

"You..." Feliks blinked at him. "Are _such_ a manipulative fucker, aren't you? Does that work on other people?"

Matthew smiled faintly, "Most people don't expect it of me. They meet Alfred and assume I'm just as direct when I speak."

"Well, this is my first exposure to you and damn did you just lay that out. Besides, you got like, totally nothing on the people I grew up," Feliks shrugged.

"Shall I try the more direct route then?" Matthew asked, amused and a bit surprised that someone actually called him on his tactics.

"It might work better," Feliks said, looking up and down the hall again. "You might as well come in for tea, if you've been seen you've already been seen."

Matthew stepped inside once Feliks moved out of the doorway.  He stepped aside so as not to corner the other at all, "Thank you."

"Not sure what you're thanking me for," Feliks said, moving to the kitchen, considering his selection of coffee and tea.

"Not slamming the door in my face?  At least taking the time to hear me out?"  Matthew offered, gaze drifting to Feliks' plant.

Deciding that if the other man commented on his plant, he'd kick him out, Feliks just shrugged. "As I said, if you were going to be seen you would have already."

He turned his attention away from the plant and back to Feliks, "Which doesn't actually exclude the possibility of slamming the door in my face."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I think you were like, going to be more blunt and less of a passive-aggressive bastard or something?"

"I was going to attempt it at least," Matthew agreed. "You don't live under a rock and you still have ties to the Russian House so I'm assuming you know the disaster that's going on right now with the city's Houses?"

"Yeah, I know," Feliks said. "The Houses are allying themselves because Ivan killed Otho and kidnapped the bastard albino."

"Well, the hope is to be a bit more active than that.  But in order to have any chance at dealing with Ivan and his House we need information.  Wars are won and lost because of that, and we're on the brink of a war.  We can offer you protection, or whatever else you think you'll need in exchange, but we need some idea of his strength or a decent layout of his territory, or both.  Ideally both," Matthew spoke frankly.

"The Germans already offered me protection," Feliks said, turning from him to fuss with the kettle. "I trust them a lot more than you anyway."

"You trust the House whose Head you hate more than you trust us?"  Matthew sounded skeptical, but he shrugged, "What about a ticket out of the city?"

"It's not just about me," Feliks returned.

"Two tickets then," Matthew offered.

"You're rather certain about what you're offering," Feliks said, finally stepping away from the kettle.

"I've been told to offer you what you ask for, but as you've asked for nothing I'm laying out possibilities."

"Anything I ask for?" Feliks asked in obvious surprise. "That's not... like a normal offer."

"You've never had an actual offer from Arthur have you?"  Matthew asked.  "The man places a high value on information.  Short of his territory or position an agreement can usually be made."

Crossing his arms, Feliks looked out the window. "No, I've never heard much of an offer from people that aren't Ivan."

Matthew paused at that, but nodded, "Well, the near carte blanche offer is on the table for you.  But it does come at the price of information."

He continued looking out the window for a long moment until the kettle went off and he moved to pull it off the heat. "I can't," he said and it sounded like it pained him. "Because not even an offer like that would get me what I want."

That earned another pause from Matthew, "May I ask what that is?  As one person to another rather than as a negotiator."

"The person I want to get out of that House isn't coming," Feliks said. "And I can't go anywhere without them."

"If," Matthew weighed his words carefully, "If that person were to get out of that House, what would you do?"

"I don't know because I've not allowed myself to think about it," he replied, dropping a bag of tea into a cup of hot water and handing it over. "But I can't help you. I've done too much in this stupid clusterfuck already." The back of his shoulder blades hurt. "And I'd rather neither of us end up dead. I've played this game for too long for that."

Accepting the tea, Matthew considered the color seeping from the bag into the water and was vaguely reminded of swirling blood, "Thank you for your time, and the tea, then."  He drew a breath, sipping at the still steeping tea, "I hope, for both your sakes, that they leave that House.  If they do, keep the offer in mind.  We'll do our best to get you both out of the city if that's what you need."

"Yeah," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Everyone is suddenly being so helpful."

"Information's an expensive commodity around here, and you're the only one with information on the Russian House," the other said, simply.

"You know, the whole point of leaving was to _stop_ being a commodity," Feliks said, but it was in an undertone and lacked the snap he wished the statement had.

Matthew watched him over the rim of his cup, "You _have_ a commodity, you aren't the commodity yourself."

"And look at all the difference that makes," Feliks sighed.

o-o-o

"You know, we can get coffee just about this good at home," Heracles said, considering the mug in front of him before lifting his eyes up to Sadiq, who huffed at him.

"Firstly," Sadiq said, stirring his mug before taking a long swallow. "We don't actually have coffee this good. And secondly? This cup has one big bonus we don't have at home and that's the fact there's no cat hair in it."

The corners of his mouth quirking upward, Heracles shook his head slightly. "I can't imagine why that's a bonus."

"Brat," Sadiq muttered into his mug and Heracles' smile only widened.

The door of the cafe opened, allowing Roderich and Lili to emerge, drinks in hand—coffee for Roderich, chocolate for Lili.  He was talking in an undertone and she nodded along even as his gaze swept over the patio.  Roderich broke off to smile when he saw Sadiq and led the girl over, "Good day to you, gentlemen."

Heracles arched his brows and tilted his head over, otherwise not moving. "Hello?" he offered, glancing over at Sadiq to see the slow smile spreading across his face.

"It's good to see you," Sadiq drawled. "Are you really sure you should be out of bed yet?"

Roderich lifted the cane he was using very slightly to indicate its presence, "I am able to be up and around as long as I'm careful, and Lili is here to make certain I take it easy."

Heracles' brows went up further and he gave Sadiq a long look over his coffee mug. "Well at least sit down," Sadiq said, gesturing at them.

Roderich inclined his head, "Thank you."  He took the chair slightly nearer Sadiq, while Lili settled into the remaining seat.  Roderich's gaze flickered to Heracles and then back to Sadiq, "Allergies again?"

"Forever, I suspect," Sadiq said.

"Though there's one less cat now," Heracles said, eyes narrowed and Sadiq sighed. "Which I still suspect you of."

"Brat, if I was going to kill one of your cats, I'd take out the whole horde," Sadiq said, tone idle but smile sharp. "One doesn't even put a dent on the pack you have."

Roderich's lips curled upward but he tried to hide his smile behind his cup as Lili asked quietly, "How many cats do you have?"

"Seven," Heracles said, turning his head over to her. "Or at least it used to be seven, there are six now."

Rolling his eyes, Sadiq braced his elbows on the table. "And I fully expect it to be seven again soon."

"So," she looked between them, "you like cats and Mr. Adnan is allergic?"

"Mr. Adnan?" Heracles said, clearly shocked at hearing anyone call Sadiq that at the same time Sadiq said, "Yes."

"That's about the gist of it," Roderich murmured.

Lili paused for a long moment, looking incredibly nervous before she offered her hand to Heracles, "Lili."

For a moment Heracles hesitated before holding his own hand out. "Heracles. So, do you know this bastard already?"

She blinked at him for a long moment, but nodded very slightly, "Yes, we've met.  He was very helpful."

Heracles frowned and Sadiq laughed into his cup again. "Those clothes are still stunning on you," Sadiq said and Heracles rolled his eyes in a dramatic gesture.

"Oh my god you let him dress you."

She shifted back slightly at that, receding to drink her chocolate, "Yes?" Roderich sighed softly and offered Heracles a very slight scowl.

"He likes that," Heracles said, shaking his head slightly. "I mean, just because he likes fashion. I stopped letting him pick out my clothes years ago and I don't think he ever got over it."

"Because you wear white tee-shirts and combat boots," Sadiq sighed.

"Well it, it worked alright for me," Lili murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear only to have it slip forward again.

"The clothes look very good on you," Heracles said easily enough. "It's the principle of the matter really."

"I resent everything you're saying," Sadiq drawled, paying more attention to Roderich while he listened.

Roderich chuckled quietly, shaking his head but turned his attention more fully to Sadiq when he saw Lili lean forward again and set her cup down rather than use it as a shield, "Beyond your allergies, how have you been?"

Sadiq shrugged and before he could speak, Heracles broke in for him. "Stressed beyond belief, a uptight bastard and also very bitchy, mostly."

"Brat, I could make you pay for your own coffee," Sadiq snapped in reply.

Roderich bit back a laugh, "So in other words, not counting the lack of being shot, much as I am?"

"Yes, but the not being shot is such a huge part of this," Sadiq said, still eying him like he was wondering about packing him back off to bed.

"I don't doubt that," he caught the look and frowned, "I am perfectly fine, sir."

Sadiq hummed. "If you say you are. I personally tend to make my own decisions on such things."

"Which are usually overbearing and moronic?" Heracles offered.

"I'm not sure they would be in this case," Lili said quietly, earning her a glance and slight frown from Roderich, but she managed to ignore that.  "It's not as though Roderich's been sleeping much."

"Please don't encourage him," Heracles said in an undertone to Lili as Sadiq looked Roderich up and down again.

"Would chaining you to the bed work?" he asked and Heracles choked on the swallow of coffee he had been taking.

Lili blushed at that and Roderich tensed, "No, it most certainly would not.  I've been resting, no matter what the other members of the House think."

Sadiq sighed and Heracles moved his consideration away from his mug or Lili to really take a look at Roderich for the first time, trying to size him up. "But are you resting enough?" Sadiq asked. "More does not mean enough."

Roderich's violet eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "Yes, I am. I've been taking hours to rest and sleep every night." Lili hummed into her cup, but didn't say anything.

"Hours?" he pressed and shook his head. "I really will tie you down to the bed."

"Hours.  Plural.  More than a few," Roderich answered, face impassive.

"A few? That still implies like three or four, not the eight or so that healthy people strive for," Sadiq said, crossing his arms and leaning back.

"At the moment there isn't much more than that which I can allow," came the sharp response, Roderich's hand tightening on his coffee cup.

Heracles rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You should not have admitted that," he muttered as Sadiq just looked appalled.

"It's more than he gets when he's healthy," Lili murmured under her breath.

Heracles sighed, and decided just to pay attention to the coffee in front of him rather than the brewing anger under Sadiq's eyes.

Roderich pursed his lips, "I would say that this is my concern, quite frankly. I am in fact capable of taking care of myself."

"That I'll actually believe when I am given evidence of it," Sadiq replied. "I mean, the fact you've lived this long in a compelling argument to at least some competency, but certainly not to the level of health or long life."

"You say that as though any of us are going to be granted a long life," Roderich replied, waspishly.

"There's living to die in a hospital and there's living a decently long existence," Sadiq said and Heracles glanced between the two of them, suddenly looking a shade more uncomfortable.

Lili sighed slightly, rubbing her eyes as Roderich tensed, gritting out, "And I suppose you know the secret to the preferred version of death?"

"Sure, avoiding it as long as humanly possible," he replied. "And as the second oldest living Head of House in this city, I think I'm not doing bad there."

"No, I think you're doing quite well.  I do not, however, appreciate you meddling in my choices," the intelligence officer responded, frowning.

"You're complaining that someone else wants you alive," Heracles drawled, cheek propped up in one hand leaning against the table. "That's new."

"I am not," Roderich all but snapped, glancing at Lil as she sighed.

"He's complaining that someone else is telling him he's not taking enough time for himself."  She spoke quietly, just loud enough to be heard, "He thinks he's taking as much time as he can afford right now, even if it means detriment to his health.  What with only getting spotty news about Gilbert and having no way of actually getting him home.  He's tired of people questioning his actions."

Roderich nodded once, caught somewhere between offended that she would presume to say that much about him, grateful that she had, and surprised that she'd put that many sentences together without faltering.

Heracles hid a smile behind one hand and Sadiq gave her an appraising look. "Even so," he said, voice more soft even as he offered her a smile. "It is good to take care of yourself, no matter how difficult that may seem."

"Oh you don't have to explain that to me," she murmured, blushing very slightly and receding again.

"What she means is that the entire House has been clear on that point.  Ludwig needs the help, in case you've forgotten we had a recent power turn-over," Roderich said.

Lili sighed, "Roderich, you're starting up again."

He paused and his lips twitched downward slightly, but he took a sip of coffee rather than say anything further.

"Which I understand," Sadiq said, tilting his head. "However, I don't think Ludwig is really caught in any power consolidations. I mean, he's not Braginski and he's not even what Carriedo is, which is not blood and shot by his own people."

"No," Roderich agreed, "but we all expected him to have Gilbert at his side when he came to power and the fact that he isn't has set things off kilter from the start."

Sadiq's mouth twisted, considering. "Well, you're getting a cup of coffee. I suppose that's a start."

"It is.  And I have been getting sleep, whether you believe that or not," Roderich said, trying to keep his tone neutral rather than sullen, having defended his patterns one too many times in the past week.

For a moment Sadiq didn't move before he leaned forward slightly, not quite in Roderich's space yet but close. "You do realize that if you expect anything to happen, I am going to end up caring about how you take care of yourself, right?"

Roderich held himself still, meeting Sadiq's gaze steadily, "I do in fact, and if anything happens you will have that right.  The people who have been harping on it recently do not have that privilege and I don't intend to offer it to them."

The right side of Sadiq's mouth twitched up. "Is anyone capable of earning that right then?" he asked, idly noting that Heracles was engaging Lili in a vague conversation about whether or not she was still going to school.

Roderich's lips finally curled upward very slightly and he leaned against the table, not taking his eyes from Sadiq's, "I would say that you're well on your way there."

"Good," Sadiq said, leaning back. "I tend to try and maximize the life spans of those that I'm around."

Roderich nodded once, picking up his cup and finishing off his coffee, "I'm glad to hear that.  It's a good practice to have."

Sadiq grinned, the expression a slow smile spreading across his face. "I've gotten relatively good at it."

"I warn you, I can be stubborn, even when I know I shouldn't be," Roderich offered.

"Well, I'm stubborn too," Sadiq shrugged. "We'll figure it out."

"I look forward to it," Roderich smiled faintly.  "You know, we never were able to have dinner."

"You managed to get shot and send the crazy one and the gun happy one in your stead," Sadiq said with a wry smile.

"That was not entirely my fault," Roderich answered, brushing his brown hair away from his forehead.

"But you still got shot," Sadiq said. "Which is generally something to be avoided no matter who is at fault."

"Generally, yes.  And usually I'm far better at doing so."

"I will be holding you to that promise," Sadiq murmured. "Do try and be better when it comes to being physically harmed."

Roderich considered him for a moment before nodding, "I shall do my best.  I would like to try dinner again in the near future, without having to send someone in my place this time."

"I would certainly believe that a better endeavor all around," Sadiq said, leaning back. "Besides, any chance to eat food without cat fur already in it."

That garnered a chuckle, "Next week some time, then?"

"Whenever you're free," Sadiq agreed.

"Shall we plan for next Thursday and hope that nothing comes up?" Roderich asked.

Considering, Sadiq glanced over at Heracles who gave him a rather unimpressed look before nodding. "Yes, Thursday. Shall we try the same place again?"

"I think we shall," Roderich agreed, catching the way Lili blinked over at them and shook her head slightly out of the corner of his eye.

Heracles for his part wrinkled his nose. "Must you make dates in front of me? It's disturbing to think about."

Lili glanced at him, "Is it really so bad as that?"

"Firstly, he's old," Heracles said and Sadiq flicked one of the packets of sugar on the table at his head. "And secondly, it's just weird. I never want to think about the fact he has a dick, let alone the fact he sometimes thinks with it."

"You," Sadiq just drawled without much heat behind it. "Are such a brat."

The girl blushed a deep shade of red at that and Roderich arched an eyebrow at Heracles, "How succinctly put."

Lili managed to speak again after a moment, "Well, that, that, I can see how that might be, well, um, awkward."

Roderich murmured under his breath in a language he knew Lili was unfamiliar with, more to himself than to anyone present, "He was crass, but your brother needs to stop sheltering you."

Sadiq kicked Heracles under the table, shaking his head slightly when the other gave him a sleepy-eyed stare back. "Be nice, brat."

Lili looked across at Roderich, still blushing, "You, you're saying things about Vash again."

"I usually am," he responded with a nod.

"I can tell that's what you're doing when you avoid English and German."

"French and Italian as well, since he knows those," Roderich supplied, leaning back in his chair and managing not to wince.

"How many languages do you know?" Heracles asked in some surprise.

"Five fluently and I have a better than working knowledge of two more, and can sometimes struggle my way through pieces of Danish," Roderich answered.  "My father was rather adamant about languages in my schooling, and I've found it useful to continue that."

Heracles' eyes widened in surprise and Sadiq laughed. "Which is why your notes are impossible to read and why you're head of intelligence, hm?"

The German's lips curled upward at that, "That is exactly why, actually.  I've been working on writing and reading in another couple of languages, but I don't have the time that is actually needed for that."

"And which ones are those?" Sadiq asked.

"It would be nice to have a written knowledge of Russian and possibly Mandarin, but between the vast differences in the characters and not having studied them when I was younger it's slow going," Roderich responded.

"It's too bad you've never tried Greek," Heracles said.

"I may have to at some point.  The only language I know that doesn't heavily involve the Latin alphabet is Turkish, in all honesty," he answered with a shrug.  "It was one of the languages my father insisted on."

That earned a long, slow grin from Sadiq and an eye roll from Heracles. "Really now?" Sadiq all but purred.

Roderich's lips curled upward and he rested his chin on the back of his hand, "My second language after German, in fact."

"Not a lot of people use Turkish," Sadiq said, arching his brows up.

"My father had high hopes of me taking over his business, and one of his primary business associates was Turkish."

"Really?" Sadiq asked, seeming to consider that. "And what on earth was his business then? To expect you to take over it?"

"Legal imports and exports, dealing with a variety of consumer goods," Roderich replied with a grimace.

"I cannot possibly imagine how he ever figured you would follow him," Sadiq laughed, shaking his head and setting the mug of coffee down.

"I was his only child, he didn't have any other options," Roderich replied with a wry twist of his lips.

"So he was the legacy type then," Sadiq asked, arching his brows up.

"He liked the fact that there was something outside of the House and he built it from the ground up."  Roderich chuckled, mirthlessly, "The fight we had when he found out I was working my way up through the ranks rather than taking on his company was enough to get me out of there for good."

Heracles looked over. "Think I could do that?" he asked.

"No," Sadiq said without thinking about it.

Lili blinked once before laughing quietly, "I finally recognize you two."

Roderich arched an eyebrow at her, "You've met Sadiq before."

"No, I, I mean how they interact."

"What?" Heracles asked, looking over. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean, I mean you interact like Roderich and Gilbert.  You, you bitch at each other and act like you hate each other, but you get along in your own way.  I mean, Roderich and Gilbert would probably claim the other is the closest thing to a best friend they have," She glanced at Roderich for confirmation.

The intelligence officer shook his head slightly, "Never out loud and only in moments of desperation."

Heracles gave her a look of horror. "I'm sorry, you're assuming I like him at all and that is just... just totally wrong." Sadiq laughed into his hand instead of saying anything.

"But you were having coffee with him before we arrived," she replied, blinking at Heracles.

"It's a necessity!" he protested.

Roderich's lips curled up very slightly and Lili tilted her head to one side, "Why?"

"Because we live together, that doesn't mean I have to get along with him," Heracles protested.

"He's still in the rebellious teenage phase," Sadiq said and Heracles kicked him under the table.

"I'm just saying it's how I see it.  It doesn't, well it doesn't mean it's always true," Lili replied quietly.

Heracles muttered something and Sadiq gave Lili a beaming smile. "Don't worry. It's the only admitting things under the pain of death that's the hold up here."

"It's, that seems like normal in this sort of thing," Lili murmured.

Roderich arched an eyebrow, "It's a prerequisite even."

Muttering something else, Heracles buried his face into the mug of coffee.

"Like you and Gilbert," Lili repeated, earning her a slight nod from Roderich.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable being compared to that crazy bastard," Sadiq said. "Though, I have to say, I was terribly surprised when he showed up at dinner the other night.

"He was insistent he wanted to see you and Vash interact, and had to prove to me that he could in fact dress himself nicely without guidance," Roderich answered, smiling faintly.

"Which he did," Sadiq said. "Which was the surprising part. I'm not sure I could have done it better myself."

Roderich nodded, "It was rather shocking, I was convinced his normal choice of clothing was a condition."

"I think it's even more tragic that it's not and he chooses what he wears," Sadiq shook his head.

"Well, it's Gilbert," Roderich said by way of explanation.  "He makes choices a normal person would dismiss out of hand, but he seems happy enough with them."

"Isn't that what matters?" Heracles muttered, not quite looking up at anyone as Sadiq grinned at Roderich, seeming to agree that what made one happy was worth it."

"Well of course, that's what matters.  Gilbert just tends to have unique tastes," Roderich shook his head rather than offer a fond smile.  "It works for him and it makes some people around him happy as well."

"But only some people," Sadiq said.

"Most others just find him abrasive and offensive," Roderich agreed.

"That I can sympathize with," Heracles said and Sadiq flicked another sugar packet at his head.

"Most people find me charming you know."

"Then it would seem that majority vote wins in that case," Roderich offered Sadiq a smile even as Lili glanced at her watch.

"Oh god, stop flirting where I can hear," Heracles groaned. "Or I'll find another cat just for you. Even though I'm still convinced you killed the last one."

"Seriously, it would have been a massacre at that point," Sadiq said. "A clean slate."

"But then you would have to risk him bringing in a larger number to make up for the ones that had been massacred," Roderich pointed out.

"Exactly, it's not worth it, ergo I did not bother to kill your cat."

"Roderich," Lili spoke quietly, "we're almost at the time limit."

He sighed, "Damn.  Your brother didn't give much time, did he?"

"You're still healing."

"Are you being timed by Vash then?" Sadiq asked.

"He threatened search parties if we weren't back in two hours," Roderich replied, grimacing.

"I hope dinner on Thursday will not have a similar time limit," Sadiq said.

"I'll see to it that it doesn't," Roderich promised, rising carefully, hand closing around his cane.

"Good, because I might require a bit more than two hours, especially with transit time," Sadiq purred.

Roderich smirked, "I rather hope so."

Lili coughed as she rose, blushing before she looked at Heracles, "It was good to meet you."

"And I'm happy to have met you," Heracles said, giving her a smile.

"Maybe I'll, maybe I'll see you later," Lili offered with a faint smile before turning toward where they had left the car.

Roderich offered Sadiq another smile, "Good day, Sadiq."  He followed Lili.

Watching them go, Heracles glanced back over at Sadiq, slowly raising his brows. Muttering at him, Sadiq just shook his head and ordered two more cups of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful words left on the last chapter. It was a joy to hear from each and every one of you and it really did brighten our weeks. Hope you enjoyed the latest update and the introduction onscreen of Yao and Heracles.


	13. Maybe You Need a New Job

Matthew entered the English house quietly, managing to duck everyone until he reached Francis' room and knocked on the door. Swinging the door open, Francis leaned against the doorframe, hair rumpled from an impromptu nap. "Yeah?"

"I have now met the only person in this city who can immediately call me on my manipulations," Matthew informed him.

"Damn," Francis blinked once. "So you talked to Feliks. Come on in."

Matthew stepped inside, waiting until the door closed before he grimaced, "So, the gist of his answer was 'no'. And that was with two tickets out of the city on the table for him.  He had some interesting comments about commodities that make me want to go pull Uncle Cameron's hair out by the roots and let him know what I think of him at the moment."

Francis' brow quirked up. "I wouldn't have thought he had it in him. What do you think he did because if he just turned off our only possible informant, I might have to punch him."

"There was mention of being a commodity," Matthew replied.  "And I was told that he was more inclined to trust the _Germans_ than us."

"So, punching Cameron in the face," Francis inclined his head. "I'm just curious about the whole calling you out thing because I haven't actually seen anyone do that."

"Apparently I have nothing on the people he grew up with," Matthew answered with a shrug.  "He heard me out even after that, but it doesn't matter because it was a conclusive 'no' due to a few different things from what I could tell."

"What sorts of things?" Francis asked. "I'm curious, it could matter."

"We can't get him what he wants for one, for another he says he's done too much in this, and I quote, stupid clusterfuck already."

Considering that for a moment, Francis sat down, crossing his legs. "Really? So what has he done? I suppose if he won't help us it doesn't matter much but..."

"I don't know exactly what he's done," Matthew answered, leaning against the wall and reaching up to adjust his glasses.  "My guess is it has something to do with the fact that the Germans are in slightly less of a blind panic about Gilbert, though."

"I'll have to call Ludwig," Francis said, shaking his head. "Besides, any news on Gilbert is good news." He paused, considering. "Do you think he's had any other visitors?"

Matthew thought about that question for a moment and then nodded, "He was jumpy and nervous and I'm willing to bet good money that someone had been to see him.  Likely Braginski or someone sent by him.  Or at the very least he had been contacted recently."

Francis whistled. "Braginski would scare the shit out of me on my doorstep."

Matthew nodded slightly, "I'm not sure it would have done any good to get there before that, but there certainly wasn't any chance after whatever the hell happened."

"So he's out when it comes to information then, too bad," Francis sighed and shook his head before grinning at Matthew. "I still wish I could have seen your face when he called out you for being a manipulative little shit."

The younger man's lips curled upward into a slow smile, "Oh I'm sure it was a picture.  It was a new experience, I'll say that much.  You know most of the people in _this House_ haven't figured out I can twist them around as much as I like so to have an outsider get it was enlightening.  I may have to try something more subtle next time I attempt a manipulation."  He shrugged, "Usually the wide-eyed innocent, submissive look gets results."

"That's usually because it scares the shit out of Alfred," Francis laughed. "Speaking of—he went out again today. Do you have any idea where he keeps going?"

Matthew pursed his lips at that, "I have suspicions, and I'm pretty sure Arthur would be likely to kill him for them."

Francis hummed. "I was considering having someone tail him, as I figure it's my duty to know, but now I'm not so sure."

"So far as I know he's safe.  Stupid, but safe, for the moment," Matthew said.  "He's meeting someone, but as little as I credit Alfred with regular sense he wouldn't do anything to actually harm the House."

"True," Francis agreed. "But who is he meeting?"

Matthew considered for a long moment before speaking steadily, "If this gets back to Arthur I will find a way to convince him that Alfred's interactions were all your idea, alright?"

Francis' eyebrows made a break for his hairline. "You realize Arthur would kill me then, correct?"

"Better you than Alfred," Matthew responded frankly.

"I thought you liked me more than that," Francis pouted, setting one hand on his crossed knees and tilting his head at Matthew. "Besides, your uncle is more inclined to kill me than Alfred on pretty much every day in the calendar."

"He probably wouldn't believe they were entirely your idea, anyhow," Matthew shrugged.  "And Arthur is far less inclined to kill you than you think."

"I'll believe _that_ when I see it," Francis returned, not thinking about the way Arthur had sagged against his desk or the feel of his back muscles.

"Alright, fine, I won't try to convince him that you're responsible for Alfred, but I will find something, and you know I will, if it gets back to him and I think you had something to do with it."

Huffing out a breath, not sure whether he should be miffed at anyone withholding any information from him or just thinking how adorable Matthew was for trying to protect his brother, Francis nodded. "Alright, fine. So what is it then?"

Matthew looked at him for a long moment, weighing the other's tone before shrugging and answering, "He has a crush on Kiku Honda and he's shit at lying so when he tells me that out with Kiku is not where he's been it's pretty obvious it is."

For a long moment Francis didn't even react before he choked on air and bent over coughing. "Alright, you're right, I can see why Arthur is going to kill him so unbelievably dead when he finds out."

"Which is why Arthur isn't going to find out," Matthew crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

"Not through me," Francis said. "I'm more interested in self-preservation than that."

"Good.  I've been meaning to tail him myself to confirm, I just haven't done it yet.  Like I said I think Alfred's being just his normal self and not thinking through the connotations, but I can pretty much guarantee that he's not saying anything compromising."  His mouth twisted slightly at the smallest of doubts he felt in that regard.

"Compromising?" Francis asked. "To Honda or to Arthur?"

"To Honda about us.  Alfred can be an idiot and reckless and single-minded but he's not actually stupid and wouldn't do anything that would put people he cares about in danger," he grimaced.  "Which, come to think of it, is actually why this whole thing is a disaster in the making."

"Because he suddenly cares about the heir of a House currently on the other side of the line?" Francis asked, tone softening.

Matthew sighed and nodded, "Exactly because of that."

Francis paused for a long moment, wanting to actually laugh. "This will be fun," he said, shaking his head.

"I guess that's one way to put it," the younger man murmured.  "I'm going to go see if I can find something to distract myself from the impending disaster at this point."

"You could try to stop it."

"Have you ever actively tried to stop my brother from doing something?"

"Once," Francis agreed. "But still, you're good at subterfuge, aren't you?"

"I'll give it a try, but I can't do anything today now that he's left without a tail."

"I have great faith in you," Francis said, not as sarcastic as he could have made it.

Matthew's eyebrows arched, but he shrugged and headed for the door, "I'll see you later, Francis."

"Yeah, see you later," Francis said, watching him go and considering the closed door for a long moment.

o-o-o

Matthias was talking animatedly with the waiter by the time Arthur and Matthew showed up at the cafe. Sigurd was sitting next to him, hands folded over his chest, and occasionally telling him to be quieter.

Arthur's gaze swept around the cafe as he approached the table, Matthew a half step back and to his left.  The Head of the English House stopped, hand resting on the back of his chair, "Matthias, thank you for meeting with us."  His gaze flickered to the other Nordic, "And Sigurd, it is good to see you."

"It is always good to see you," Sigurd said, eyes still staring somewhere no one else could really see, even as Matthias beamed over at them. 

"Hey old man! Glad to see you're still walking around."

Arthur's smile turned a shade more brittle at that, "Always a pleasure to see that you're still breathing as well, Matthias."  He sat down, Matthew taking the remaining seat and considering the two across from them.

"I'm young," Matthias said, spreading his arms. "I mean, not that young, compared to the latest crop that seems to have shown up. But a damned shade younger than you."

"But of course," Arthur replied, motioning to the waiter and requesting hot water and a teabag before turning back to Matthias.  "How has your young life been treating you?"

Mathias shrugged. "You know, nothing much I can complain about."

"Except for the excessive amount which you do," Sigurd said quietly.

Arthur's lips turned up into a slightly more genuine smile, "Think how much quieter things would be if no one complained."

Matthew glanced at him, "Quieter, but not a lot would get done to remedy problems."

"A valid point," Arthur inclined his head very slightly before looking back to Matthias.

"You haven't heard him complain," Sigurd said, sipping at the water he had in front of him. 

"I don't bitch that much," Matthias protested, resting his elbows on the table.

Matthew blinked once, thinking of what might be considered a lot of complaining.  He'd grown up with Alfred and their Uncle Cameron.  Cameron, when he got going, could bitch with the best of them.

Arthur snorted lightly, thanking the waiter as the water and tea bag were set down. He absently tested the water and started the tea steeping before he spoke again, "I assume, because you're not completely cut off in your territory, that you're well aware of the disaster that's taken most of the city over?"

"Quite," Matthias agreed. "Which is why I assume you're here."

"You always were an intelligent one," Arthur drawled, sampling the sugar before adding it to his tea.

"Which is also why I'd rather stay the hell out of it," Matthias said, still smiling, cheek propped up with one hand.

One of Arthur's eyebrows arched, "I'm sorry, did you think that I was going to ask you for an alliance?  I'm not the one at war with the Russians; that is entirely up to the Germans at this point."

"I never said that's what you were doing," Matthias said, laughing. "I'm just saying that I'm aware of it and my position is to stay the fuck away."

"So you have no problems with an official neutrality pact, then?"  Arthur asked, off-handedly.

"With you?" he shrugged. "Certainly not. With your allies? That might be more complicated."

"I'm hardly concerned about your pacts or otherwise with my allies.  They can cover their own agreements, I have enough to do taking care of my own House," Arthur responded. "As long as you're not actively against them, of course."

"See, this is what I like about you, you old bastard," Matthias said, shaking his head and laughing. "You're brutally honest when you're only sticking your neck out for yourself."

Arthur's lips curled upward and he took a sip of his tea, "I have never stuck my neck out only for myself.  You know as well as I do that the House comes first."

Matthias snorted out a laugh. "Your House or your family? With you it's damned hard to tell."

"They're one and the same, always have been," Arthur replied with a lazy smile.  "Regardless, do we have an agreement of neutrality?"

"Sure," Matthias shrugged. "I don't have much interest in fighting you."

Sigurd sighed, not bothering to remind the other about proper meet etiquette.

Arthur laughed at that, "I suddenly remember why I meet with you.  It's refreshing."

Matthew glanced at his uncle like the man had gone insane.  He would have sworn that Arthur had been complaining about Matthias the entire way there, but if the Head of the House said otherwise who was he to contradict.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that's what you usually say," Matthias drawled, grinning lazily at him.

That earned a smirk from Arthur, "And why would I ever dream of saying otherwise?  We've rarely had an interaction that wasn't cordial or beneficial."

Matthias just laughed again and Sigurd shook his head. "Because he's a brat?" Sigurd offered.

Arthur smiled faintly at Sigurd, "I don't know if I'd go that far."  

"So he's nothing like Alfred at all?"  Matthew murmured with a knowing glance at the Head of his House.

Matthias' eyes widened in horror. "You're joking."

Matthew offered him an innocent blink from behind his glasses, "Is that a bad thing?"

Matthias groaned. "Oh my god. Alfred is... just no. I don't want to be him."

Arthur took a sip of his tea to hide his smile as Matthew tilted his head on one side, still playing the part of the confused younger brother, "Is there something wrong with Alfred, sir?"

Matthias just groaned again and Sigurd smiled slowly. "I think he might actually be louder than you," he told Matthias to another groan.

Matthew kept his amusement from showing as he seemed to recede slightly, "He isn't really as bad as all that, is he?"  

Arthur shook his head, "You know very well your brother is.  And Matthias comes nowhere near as irritating as Alfred."

"He really is that bad," Matthias said. "And he makes such a racket around town."

"His boots are nicer than yours," Sigurd said, taking another sip of water and Matthias looked over at him with betrayal.

Arthur shot Sigurd an amused glance at that, "But he doesn't carry himself with quite the same...presence as Matthias."  

"Presence isn't the be all to end all," Matthew murmured.   

"No, but it is certainly beneficial in some situations."  His uncle returned with a shrug

Matthias' jaw dropped and then he laughed. "A compliment from you. I just don't know how to react."

"Consider it a once in a lifetime opportunity and mark it in your calendar," Arthur suggested, setting his cup aside.

"I'll be sure to!" Matthias said, still laughing.

Arthur chuckled, "Have we anything else that needs to be discussed?  Concerns?  Questions?"

"I think we understand each other," Matthias shrugged. "You break the truce and I'll find a way to break you. And vice versa. At the moment we gain nothing by being enemies."

The Head of the English House nodded very slightly, "Then we're agreed.  I have a few other things to attend to yet today, so you'll pardon us for leaving, I hope?"

Matthias waved him off. "Go on then."

Arthur rose, setting down the money for his tea and a little extra, sliding it under the saucer and glanced at his nephew who had gotten to his feet.  With another nod to Matthias and a quiet "Good day" to Sigurd, they departed.

"That seemed simple enough," Sigurd said, finishing the last of his water and eying the ice cubes left before putting the glass down. 

"It means one less likely person to stab us in the back," Matthias shrugged, pushing himself to his feet and dropping several too many bills on the table. For a moment Sigurd considered them like he might pick another up before following Matthias to the door and out onto the street. 

"I'm surprised you didn't have Berwald come," he said, sliding his hands into his pockets as Matthias strode down the street, scattering anyone who moved too slowly. 

Matthias snorted, shaking his head. "If you think it's odd," he said, and started whistling as they walked, Sigurd falling into happy enough silence.

Berwald was seated quite comfortably on the couch in the lounge, flipping idly through the book he was reading and mostly ignoring the quiet sound of protest that came every time he turned another page.  The man making the noise was seated sideways on the couch with his back resting against Berwald's right arm and his legs stretched out along the couch cushions.  It had earned a long look from Berwald, but Tino had happily ignored him and simply curled a bit closer.

Tino shifted in his seat again, causing Berwald to glance at him, "Mm?"

“I'm bored.  We should go out."

"Can't."

Tino huffed a sigh before pulling himself up by way of the back of the couch and turning to face Berwald, "Why not?  Matthias and Sigurd will be back any minute, and we could just go for a walk or something.  We wouldn't even be gone that long."

Berwald held up his book and earned himself a sigh for his trouble, "The book will still be here when we get back."  Tino got to his feet, reaching out a hand to the other man, "Come on."

"Was goin' t' stay in 'n read t'day," came the protest, even as he marked his place and rose.

"You can do that any day, though," Tino said, momentarily distracted by the sound of the front door opening and closing.  "Oh, there they are now, I'll bet."

Berwald holstered his gun from where he had set it on the side table close at hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the lounge to the main hall.

Matthias stepped inside, stomping his feet to get some of the excess water off his boots, a rain storm catching them on the last few blocks. "Honey, we're home!" he called to no one in particular, Sigurd making a huffing sound beside him.

Tino grinned, seeing them, "Welcome back, did it go well?"  Berwald considered the amount of rain coming down outside and decided that he would have a decent argument for not taking a walk that afternoon.

"Sure, Kirkland even was free with the compliments," Matthias said with a laugh and clapped his hands. "Oh right, I was supposed to mark the calendar."

Berwald's brows rose slightly at that and he glanced at Sigurd, hoping for some sort of explanation.  Tino breezed right past any need for that, "Which calendar are you planning to note it on, your desk one or the one in the kitchen?"

"The kitchen," Matthias declared. "So everyone can see it. The day Kirkland bothered to compliment anyone." Sigurd just shook his head. 

"That's because Matthew kept comparing you to Alfred," he said in an undertone.

That earned a snort from Berwald that constituted a laugh and Tino's eyes danced at that thought, "I wish I could have seen how that went."

"Ugh," Matthias just groaned, shrugging out of his long over coat and hanging by the door before going to the kitchen.

Tino pulled on Berwald's hand, "So, we were going out?"

"Raining," the other pointed out.

"Well, we don't have to go for a walk.  There are indoor things we could do, too," Tino insisted.

Berwald offered him a glance that for him was fond and exasperated, "Where?"

"I don't know yet, I'm just feeling cooped up a bit here."

From where he was turning toward the kitchen, Matthias' shoulders had tightened.

"Say where'n we'll go," Berwald promised. 

Tino's gaze darted to Matthias and he blinked before looking back to Berwald for a moment, "Do you really want to finish your book?"  

"It c'n wait."  

"Then," he paused, considering, "what if we go walk around the mall for a while and then come back.  Just, just to get out, you know?"

"What's got you so ready to go out?" Matthias called from where he was leaning against the wall, writing on the calendar.

Tino looked in that direction, calling back, "Boredom.  I've been looking at the same walls for a few days and I need to get out."

Matthias appeared back in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "What, and Berwald is too much of a homebody to take you out?"

"He started a book this morning," Tino explained.  Berwald glanced at Matthias, offering him the faintest of frowns as he was pretty certain there was something behind that question that he was missing.

"Well, now you're never going to move him," Matthias laughed. "Never did understand what you saw in him anyway."

Tino blinked twice, feeling Berwald tense beside him, "Right.  Well, anyway we're going out for a couple of hours and we'll be back later."  He caught Berwald by the arm and pulled him away to get their coats.  Tino blinked in surprise when he heard Berwald actually muttering under his breath as he pulled on his long dark blue coat, "Did you really want to stay in?" 

"With M'tthias?  No."  

"With your book."  

"It'll keep."

"You're sortta an idiot," Sigurd said, passing Matthias who scowled at him.

Tino paused in the entry, glancing toward Matthias as Berwald reached the door, "Hey, you want to join us?"

"Me?" Matthias said, still leaning his lanky frame against the wall.

The smaller man nodded, "Yes, you."

"I'd hate to barge in," Matthias said, watching Berwald like he was daring him to disagree.

Tino shook his head, "You wouldn't be."  He glanced at Berwald who was standing at the door, watching them both impassively, "Would he?"

Berwald paused for a long moment, not sure he liked the glint in Tino's eye before he shook his head, "No."

Considering the fact he'd just stomped water off his boots, Matthias shrugged. "Sure," he said, pushing off from the wall and sliding forward, choosing a slightly different black coat and considering what could only be called a ridiculous collection of hats.

Tino smiled happily, moving over to wait by the door with Berwald.  Once Matthias was set they stepped out, the rain having started to lighten up again fortunately.

Tilting his head back, Matthias grinned. "Ah, just the clouds now."

Glancing up, Tino grinned, "You just like grey skies."

"Quite," he agreed.

Berwald glanced at him from the corner of his eye but didn't comment on that.  Tino slipped his hands into his pockets rather than twining one with Berwald's, "So your day's gone well, then?"

"Sure," he agreed with a shrug. "You know, managed not to get involved in any gang wars and the English House at least won't be stabbing us in the back anytime soon."

"Good," Berwald spoke before Tino could, earning him a blink from the smaller blond.

Matthias glanced over, hands behind his head. "Good? Anything else?"

Berwald looked at him, blinked once and then looked forward again with a shrug, "Good t' be out of the war f' now."  Tino tried not to gape, blinking rapidly up at Berwald.

"You didn't want to gain glory or any of that?" Matthias asked, glancing over with his hands still braced behind his head.

Berwald snorted, "No."

"Lots of people in this town want glory," he said with another shrug.

"Idiots," Berwald muttered, earning another glance from Tino.  Usually he had lapsed into complete silence sooner and the other was curious how much longer they would carry on what was passing for a conversation.

Matthias laughed. "Most of them. But something's to be said for the old sagas you know? The idea of fame at least."

"Good in stories.  Not in life," Berwald replied.  He fell silent, but it almost seemed like he was considering saying more.

"So what's good in life then?" Matthias asked, settling on that instead of asking him about whether or not love was for stories or life.

"Life," Berwald answered, his lips twitching upward almost imperceptibly as an indication of how wry that remark was.  "Living. Fame's no good t’ th' dead."

"So you'd not be a fan of Romeo and Juliet then?" Matthias asked, still laughing. "Everlasting fame and renown and all that but no life. What about love then?"

Berwald's mouth twisted very slightly at that question as he shrugged, "Dunno. 'T happens."

"Tino, whatever do you do with an answer like that?" Matthias asked, sounding a shade harsh.

Tino startled, having been shocked into silence by how much Berwald was actually reacting, "What?  Oh, I don't worry about it.  It's Berwald."

"Without a romantic bone in his body?" Matthias asked, glancing up and down the street as they walked.

Tino shrugged, "I don't stick around him for romance."

Matthias choked, not quite stumbling as they walked but looking like it was a close save. "So what do you stick around him for?" he asked. "Because if that's the case the sex must be—"

Berwald tensed at that and Tino blushed an alarming shade of crimson, "No, no nothing like that.  He's great to keep the creeps away."

"Right," Matthias said, clearly not quite believing it.

Tino looked like he was beginning to think that inviting Matthias along had been a mistake, "Anyhow."  He paused before asking, "Does romance really matter?"

"I think probably to most people," Matthias said and paused. "Doesn't romance matter?"

"I think in a romantic relationship it probably should," Tino admitted after a moment.

Matthias paused, glancing sideways at him. "Which you... aren't?"

Tino blinked rapidly at him, "Well, no."  Berwald sighed through his nose, having a guess at how likely that was to be believed but unsure why Tino was actually admitting it.

"Sure," Matthias said in a low voice.

Tino frowned, opening his mouth to insist, but Berwald glanced at him, "Tino."  When he looked up the other man shook his head.

"What?" Matthias asked, looking between them again.

"Nothing.  I just don't get why you don't believe me," Tino answered, garnering an irritated huff of breath from Berwald.

"Why should I when you're hanging off him all the time?" Matthias shot back.

Tino blinked at that, "But it's not like that."  Berwald stopped walking at that, Tino taking an extra step before realizing and stopping as well, "Berwald?"

His eyes shifted from Tino to Matthias and back, "Goin' home.  Talk."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded once in response, glancing toward Matthias again.

"Huh?" Matthias frowned.

Tino frowned, "We can talk just fine with you here.  Better even."  

Berwald shook his head, looking mildly skeptical of that.  

"Oh for the love of, really?  You're going to leave me to talk to him on my own then?" That garnered a shrug and Tino graced Berwald with an exasperated look, "You could back me up on this." 

"Y' doin' fine."

Matthias looked between them, frowning. "Why are we talking?"

"I don't entirely know, besides the fact that you really have misread something I think.  But why Berwald's decided not to be here I don't know," Tino crossed his arms, gaze still focused on Berwald who shrugged again.

Eyes narrowing, Matthias shook his head slightly, as if to protest having missed anything.

Tino pursed his lips, looking at Berwald for a long moment before nodding decisively, "If we stop talking about you or us or whatever will you stay?"  

Berwald tipped his head back very slightly to consider Tino from under his glasses and then shrugged and nodded, "Yes."

Shrugging, Matthias shook his head. "Sure. Whatever."

Tino rolled his eyes skyward and actually caught Berwald's arm to pull him along with them, "Great.  I swear that I do not understand what topics are and are not off limits or for how long.  It would help if you told me in more than one word spurts."  He knew he was being harsh in comparison to how he usually was, but he really did want to set Matthias straight about them and apparently that wasn't going to happen.  He just couldn't understand why and it was irritating.

"Oh leave him be," Matthias said, walking ahead from them. "He wouldn't know enough words for that."

Berwald stiffened at that and Tino glanced up at him before offering Matthias' back a scowl, "Just because he doesn't use them doesn't mean he doesn't know them."  He let go of Berwald's arm and picked up his pace to fall into step with Matthias, leaving Berwald to catch up.

Laughing, Matthias just shook his head. "Sure he doesn't."

Tino offered him an irritated look but shrugged it off, pausing when he heard a whistle from across the street.  He glanced in that direction and slowed down just enough so that Berwald could wrap a protective arm around his shoulders, offering the person who whistled a dark look.

o-o-o

When someone walked into the parlor, Ivan fully expected General Winter to leave reports on the low table he was working on and walk away. He froze when, instead, a pair of shoes showed up on the table in his line of sight. Frowning at whoever had such a death wish, his eyes slowly rose from the papers he was writing on. 

The first thing he saw was the fedora balanced on one knee, a gloved hand on top of it and his eyes snapped up to where Nataraja Patel was smirking at him. 

“You’ve been gone a while,” Ivan said, smiling in his usual way but his eyes looked almost a shade warm. 

Nataraja waved a hand. “Other cities actually have law enforcement. Who’d have thought it?”

“I can’t believe you let yourself get caught,” Ivan said, moving some of his paperwork away and shuffling it all into one neat pile. 

Rolling his shoulders, Nataraja laughed. “It was unavoidable, I’m more than sorry to say. But it was truly pathetic, the charges I got off with. Like three months or some such business, plus the trial time of course.” He shrugged again, still smirking. “I even got a prison tattoo. It’s quite the rage out of this city you know.”

“None of us would ever know,” Ivan said, sitting back. 

Nataraja laughed. “No, you probably never would,” he said. “Law’s run away and hidden itself long ago. It’s nice to be back. But I hear you’ve been causing quite a bit of trouble.”

“Me?” Ivan giggled and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” Nataraja said, shaking his head, heavy black hair threatening to fall into his eyes before he quickly brushed it back again. “You know, it’s pretty fascinating how many Houses you got aligned against you right now.”

“Yao stands with me,” Ivan said and Nataraja huffed out a breath. 

“Yes, how wonderful. Point being, I think you underestimated how many people either really dislike you or have an odd fondness for Gilbert, or are just really good at taking advantage of the situation. So why do you have him?”

Ivan crossed his arms, smile dropping off his face as he leaned back against the red couch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Nataraja said, flipping the fedora over before sliding it onto the table to lean his elbows against his knees. “Why are you still holding him prisoner? How long has it been? Weeks at least. His brother is frantic from what I hear and yet all sources indicate you’ve been treating him well. It’s not like you. So why are you holding him?”

“Because I want to,” Ivan said and Nataraja sighed. 

“You know, I like Gilbert too,” Nataraja said and Ivan frowned slightly. “There’s not many people willing to go along with my plans. They’re considered mad even by our standards.”

Ivan smiled again, tilting his head to one side. “He is rather liked, isn’t he?”

For a long moment, Nataraja watched Ivan. “You like him too, don’t you?” he said finally and watched Ivan’s face go completely blank. “So you kidnapped him.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly and laughed. “Of course that’s why. You’re not supposed to kidnap the people you like, and cause a gang war, you know.”

“Otho was the one who started it,” Ivan said, laughing but not meaning it. “He betrayed me first. So I killed him.” He didn’t add one way or the other whether Nataraja was correct for why he continued to hold Gilbert. 

“Damn, I should never leave this city,” Nataraja decided, leaning back against the couch facing Ivan’s, spreading his arms over the back. “So would it kill you or can I see Gilbert?”

Ivan shrugged, “Do whatever you like. Just know he can’t leave.” 

Nataraja blinked once and then rolled his shoulders. “Sure. Wasn’t really intending to bundle him out the window you know.”

Ivan laughed again. “It is good that you are back in town.”

“I missed it,” Nataraja agreed. “I don’t really intend to leave again.” 

They heard a clatter and a curse before Gilbert appeared at the door, General Winter behind him. “I believed you would not mind Mr. Patel,” Winter explained and gestured at Gilbert whose eyes had widened at the mention of Nataraja. “And he insisted on being let out.”

“That’s fine,” Ivan said as Nataraja stood and he suddenly didn’t want the man he sometimes called friend in the room anymore when Gilbert’s face lit up. “You can get back to work now,” Ivan added and Winter inclined his head, closing the door behind him. 

“When did you get back into town?” Gilbert asked, grinning and Nataraja returned the expression with a smile of his own, noticing the way Ivan’s shoulder line had tightened. 

“Moments ago,” he teased. “I had to come running to find you or my welcome back just would not be complete.”

Gilbert’s eyes darted over to Ivan and back to Nataraja. “Of course not,” he said, moving further into the room. “Where’ve you been then?”

Humming, Nataraja shrugged. “Here and there and then somewhere else. But it’s always good to be home.”

Gilbert laughed, Ivan still looking between them with a dark expression. “You don’t have a home you bastard. Something to do with not being tied down anywhere or to anyone.”

Something in Nataraja’s smile shifted. “Ties are so stifling,” he shrugged. “I’m much better off without them.” 

Just laughing again, Gilbert shook his head. “Still, it’s good to know you’re back in town,” he said, unable to express what it meant to see someone he used to know, and consider a friend after so long in the Russian House, surrounded by quiet strangers as likely to hurt him as look at him. Every moment he felt like he would take one wrong step and end up broken beyond repair. 

“I’ll have to stop by another time,” Nataraja said, glancing over at Ivan who was still sitting and smiling, though he’d not moved since he’d started talking to Gilbert. “You’ll have to let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Like what?” Gilbert laughed a little too loud, eyes darting to Ivan and away again. 

“I’ll see you out,” Ivan said, lumbering up to his feet. 

“I’ll see you soon, Gilbert,” Nataraja said, patting his shoulder on the way past and Gilbert deflated once the door was closed behind them. 

For a moment, Nataraja and Ivan walked down the hallway in silence. “You know, kidnapping someone away from everyone they love and breaking their leg is not a good seduction technique,” Nataraja said and barely managed not to smile when Ivan actually seemed to forget what to do with his feet for a moment. 

“An alliance didn’t work,” Ivan said softly and Nataraja suppressed a sigh. At least Ivan hadn’t looked at the wall and said he had no idea what he was talking about. 

Rubbing a gloved hand across his mouth, Nataraja glanced over at where Ivan was walking beside him. “So this has been working for you then?” he asked. “Have you ever really mentioned what you’re doing or why?”

“I brought him sunflowers,” Ivan said after a beat and Nataraja finally did give in and sigh. 

“Ivan,” he said, stopping to turn and look at him. He almost said something about knowing how difficult it must have been, between Ivan’s personal dense nature and how he was raised and Gilbert’s own inability to pick up on cues and decided against it. “You might want to be more straight-forward. And I don’t mean straight-forward with your pipe. If you actually do care about him, you might want to let him know that. And you know, not break his leg again.”

“It was his ribs I broke twice,” Ivan said, not looking at Nataraja and the other sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly, as quietly as he could.

“Right,” he said carefully. “Ivan, truly. From all apparent observations he has no idea why he’s here and no one else does either. Seductions do not involve breaking bones. Try the flower thing more,” he offered. 

Ivan nodded, but even that didn’t give Nataraja much hope. “Well, at any rate,” he said, sliding his hands into his black suit pockets. “It’s good to be back.” 

For a long time after he left, Ivan stood at the doorway, hands fiddling with the end of his long scarf and staring into the distance. 

o-o-o

Pausing in front of a cafe, Antonio glanced around. "What about here?" he asked, tapping Lovino's arm.

Lovino pulled his attention away from scanning the street to consider the place and the lines of visibility.  He shrugged slightly and then nodded, "I think it'll be good."  He glanced up at the other, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, but he didn't say more than that.

"You're so terribly paranoid," Antonio laughed, wanting to wrap an arm around him and barely managing not to when suddenly a shot rang down the street. Instantly he ducked down, moving back and behind the overhang of the building.

Lovino swore, moving with him and drawing one of his guns as he did so, "Paranoid, huh?"  He pressed himself back against the building, trying to figure out where the shot had come from in order to return fire.

"Well," Antonio shrugged, back against the brick building. "It's not a bad thing."

The Italian glanced at him and nodded.  Drawing a deep breath he glanced out from where they'd taken cover and drew back quickly as another shot rang out, echoing at the same time as his own, "There you are, you son of a bitch."

Antonio peered around the corner. "Do you think you got him?" he asked.

Another shot from up the street answered that question.  "Stay back, you idiot," Lovino growled, drawing the hammer back on his gun and ducking out just long enough to fire three shots in rapid succession. The returning barrage sent him back into cover, "Fuck, more than one of them."

"How many?" Antonio asked, twitching to move. "An estimate?"

"Based on the firing pattern?"  Lovino frowned, "Three.  I think, but that's not a guarantee."

"Can we just run down the alley?" Antonio asked, cocking his head to one side, his own gun in his hand but not daring to disobey Lovino enough to look around the corner.

Lovino looked in that direction briefly and considered it, "Maybe, but we can't count on it.  I don't know this exact area well enough to get us out of here that way without risking us running into a blind alley."

"And the other option?" Antonio asked, arching his brow.

His guard glanced back the way they had come and swore under his breath, "Alright, that way it is.  And hopefully they won't come after us."

"Come on," Antonio said, hand going to Lovnio's bicep and pulling him away.

Lovino followed him to the other end of the alley, casting cautious glances over his shoulder from time to time.  When they reached the corner he pulled Antonio to a stop, "Let me check it's clear."

About to protest, Antonio just nodded. "Alright, be careful."

Drawing a deep breath, and reading his gun, Lovino glanced around the corner.  When there were no shots forthcoming, he reached back and caught Antonio by the wrist, "Come on, it's clear for now, but I don't know for how long."  He darted a quick glance back along the alleyway when he thought he heard rapid footsteps.

From where Antonio was a step in front of Lovino, he glanced back in time to see someone ready their gun and take a shot at Lovino. Within seconds, he had his own gun aimed and dropped her with a shot between the eyes.

Lovino swore, stumbling and clapping his free hand over the wound in his upper arm.  The bullet hadn't lodged, he was sure of that but fuck it hurt.  It was also going to make it more difficult to use his gun hand, "Goddamn it, we need to get a move on, there were more of them."

Antonio froze for a moment, eying the wound before he nodded. "Come on," he said, grabbing Lovino's uninjured arm. "The car's not that far."

Nodding quickly the younger man kept pace, glancing back from time to time and all but shoving Antonio the last handful of steps, "You'll have to drive."

"I can actually drive a car," Antonio said, the street suddenly clear of other people. Once shots rang out, most pedestrians and workers knew where to hide.

"Good," Lovino muttered as he ducked into the passenger seat, already carefully peeling down to his undershirt to get a better look at the wound.

Antonio tried not to look over as he kicked the car into gear. "How bad is it?" he asked, hands white on the wheel.

Lovino winced as he shifted his arm enough to get a good look at it, "It doesn't look deep.  It might take a stitch or two, but I think it'll be fine with just a bandage."

Antonio forced his shoulders to relax as he peeled down the road. "It looked like the South Americans," he said. "What did you think?"

Lovino glanced at him and nodded as he dug through the glove box to see if there was anything that they had to serve as a makeshift bandage, "I think so.  Didn't get a good look, but from what I saw the Latin House seems most likely."

"If someone's shooting at us, it's generally them," Antonio growled, swerving the car around the corner.

Finally digging out a roll of cloth and wrapping it tightly around the wound, Lovino nodded, "Only other people would be the Russians at this point and it didn't look like them."

Sliding the car into the driveway, Antonio bolted out of the door and ran around to pull open Lovino's door, already calling for someone to find Alfonso.

Lovino stepped out of the car, avoiding any help from Antonio, "It's not that bad."

Antonio's mouth tightened. "It's bad enough, alright?"

The other offered him a long look at that as they entered the house, but didn't get the chance to reply as his brother appeared, "Lovino?  Oh god, what happened?"

"Just a run in with the damn Latins," Antonio said and Alfonso paused from where he was already coming down the stairs.

Feliciano took a couple of steps closer, concern in his hazel eyes, "Fratello, how bad—"

"It's a graze, for fuck's sake.  I'm fine."

"Still, let Alfonso treat it," Antonio protested. Lovino offered him a glance, but finally nodded, looking toward the doctor.

Alfonso just motioned Lovino up. "Would you rather your room or Antonio's?" he asked in an undertone.

He didn't have to think about it, gritting out quietly, "Mine."

Alfonso nodded, but Antonio followed them into the smaller room anyway. "Sit," Alfonso said, motioning to the bed. "I'm going to have to clean it out and take a look at it."

Lovino sank down onto the bed, ignoring Antonio and focusing on unwrapping the makeshift bandage before Alfonso could. Scowling, Alfonso shook his head as his brother paced behind him. "Let me, Lovino," he said, touching the tips of his fingers to the skin around the wound, testing it before he started to clean it. "It'll need stitches, but it is a graze."

The Italian nodded very slightly, the fingers of his other hand tapping on his knee, "Will it need a sling?"

"It shouldn't, but don't do anything stupid with it," Alfonso shrugged.

"I'll be careful," he answered, keeping his tone even.  He caught motion out of the corner of his eye and frowned at where Feliciano was hovering in the doorway.

"Good," Alfonso said, rubbing disinfectant over the wound before starting to stitch it.

Lovino hissed through his teeth, but bit back any comments, turning his head so he couldn't see Feliciano and had an easier time ignoring Antonio's pacing as well.

"I can't believe they would dare," Antonio started and shook his head. "On our own territory and with the Russians... damn all that House."

Drawing a deep breath through his nose, Lovino finally spoke to Antonio, "It was a good move."

"What?" Antonio said, swinging his head around. "You mean to take advantage. I can't disagree but damn them."

"I mean the whole thing.  We're paying attention to the Russians, but beyond that we don't expect to be attacked on our own territory.  We've gotten downright complacent about them," Lovino said.  "Not saying I wouldn't like to see most of them in hell, but you've got to hand it to them."

"Hand it to backstabbing bastards?" Antonio shook his head. "I'd see the lot of them gone."

Still stitching the wound, Alfonso's hands stilled for a moment before he continued, mouth tight.

Lovino spared the medic a glance before looking back to Antonio, "We still came out ahead here.  This is a graze, I'll be fine in a few days, can't say the same for the son of a bitch you dropped in the alley."

Feliciano drew a sharp breath at that from the doorway.

"Daughter of a bitch," Antonio corrected, shrugging. "She shot you. At us, even."

"She was aiming for you, I'll bet good money," Lovino responded, tersely.  "Doesn't really matter, she's dead either way."

Alfonso definitely tensed but he didn't stop moving this time. "Did you get a good look at her?" he asked. 

"Not really," Antonio shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter. But we can't get complacent like that again."

Lovino nodded very slightly, "Keep our guard up, and make sure we pay attention to possible places where they could station themselves for a repeat of today."  Feliciano made a quiet noise, but retreated finally since he knew Lovino was going to be alright.

Antonio looked after him. "Is your brother alright?"

Lovino looked in that direction, "Probably.  He doesn't like seeing me hurt, and usually doesn't like me rehashing it."

"I can't imagine why not," Antonio said, expression clearly showing that he could.

That earned a scowl, "I'm _fine_.  I don't know how many times I need to say that until you believe me.  It's a goddamn graze, Antonio."

"That's not—" Antonio started. "In general I wouldn't like hearing about you getting hurt either alright?"

"It's part of life.  Part of our life especially," Lovino replied sharply.

"And you expect us to like it?" Antonio demanded, throwing his arms open as Alfonso quietly packed up his supplies, having bandaged the wound.

"No, but I expect you to not freak out every time I get a _scratch_ ," came the response as the younger man got to his feet.

Moving quickly now, Alfonso retreated, pulling out his phone as soon as he was outside the room. 

Antonio meanwhile frowned at Lovino. "You shouldn't get up," he protested faintly.

"I didn't even lose that much blood and it's my _arm_ not my leg," Lovino snapped, barely noticing Alfonso's exit.

"You still need to take care of yourself," Antonio said slowly, watching Lovino.

"I know how to take care of myself," the other replied, eyes narrowing very slightly.

"Usually," Antonio agreed. "God... why is it so hard for you to accept help?"

Lovino looked him over for a moment before shaking his head, "I don't need it."

Eyes widening, Antonio took a deep breath. "Sometimes... it's not a weakness to admit you need help, Lovino."

"And when I need it, you'll know," Lovino replied, starting to cross his arms but thinking better of it.

"Will I?" Antonio asked, clearly not believing a word of it. "Would you actually ask me?"

"You don't think I would?"

"No, I rather don't think you would at all," Antonio said. "I think you'd grit your teeth and glower and pretend you can do anything in the whole damn world."

"I," Lovino snapped his mouth shut and finally spoke again. "If I need help I will tell you.  I don't need it now.  It's a fucking scratch.  I'm in one piece."

"But you might not have been!" Antonio yelled, unable to restrain the panic that had bubbled up in his throat when he heard the shot go off.

"You can't live with _might_ ," Lovino snarled. "I'm fine and just...you're hovering worse than Feliciano!"

Before he could think about it, Antonio grabbed Lovino by the sides and dragged him forward. "You _might_ have died," he said, voice going low. "You _might_ not be standing here anymore."

Lovino tensed at the contact, hating to be touched when he was injured no matter who it was, "But I _didn't_ and I _am_.  Fuck, Antonio, I could say the same goddamn thing about you.  They were shooting at you just as much as at me."

"I might've lost you," Antonio said, anger seeming to drain out of him. "What would I have done then, Lovino?"

"We've been over this.  It's my job to be between you and whatever bastard is trying to kill you," Lovino said, his voice still brisk, but his temper receding.

"Then maybe you need a new job," Antonio snapped.

The younger man absolutely froze at that, his hazel eyes wide as he tried to process what Antonio had just said, "What?"

"Then maybe you need a new job," Antonio repeated.

Yanking back out of Antonio's grip Lovino snarled, "You bastard! Don't you fucking dare!"

Standing with his feet braced, Antonio's eyes narrowed. "Don't I dare what? What can I not dare, Lovino?"

He turned away, yanking a clean shirt out of his dresser and pulling it on, "You had better be fucking joking."  He'd known it was too good to be anywhere close to true.  "What the hell else would you even have me do, damn you?"

"I don't know," Antonio said, hands clenched at his sides. "Something that doesn't involve it being a choice between me or you dead."

Lovino's entire being was tense and he refused to look at Antonio as he located a jacket, "This is who I am, you goddamn bastard."  If the other couldn't accept that then it wasn't _Lovino_ he wanted.  There was someone else who looked just like him and he _should have known better_.

Before he could reach the jacket in question, Antonio slammed his shoulders back into the wall. "Lovino," he said, tone tense and standing between the other and the door. "I want you as safe as you can be. Can't you understand that?"

"Let. Go." Lovino grit out, his gaze hard as he met Antonio's eyes.

"You're going to run away," he said instead.

"So?  That's my concern."

"You're going to run away from _me_ ," Antonio said. "Because you're not _listening_."

"Get off of me," Lovino growled, twisting his shoulders under Antonio's hands.

Rather than accidently let him pull on his wound, Antonio loosened his grip but didn't move back. "I just want you safe."

"That's not something that happens in this life," Lovino snapped, shoving Antonio hard, trying to get space between them so he could get his coat and leave.

Antonio braced his feet and didn't move back. "Then why do you begrudge me wanting to keep you as long as possible?"

"You can't even fucking tell me how you plan to do that except removing me from what _I do_."

"What do you want to do?" Antonio asked instead.

"I want you to let me go," Lovino replied, still tense.

"And after that?"

"If you can't do even that much why would I think that anything I want actually matters?" he challenged.

Antonio's eyes narrowed in anger at the challenge. "Because if I move now you'll run away instead of telling me."

"Then you don't care about my answer," Lovino replied, trying to keep his tone even but his temper was still leaking into it.

"God damnit Lovino!" Antonio yelled. "Of course I care. I want to hear it is all."

"No.  What you _want_ is to lock me away where no one can hurt me.  Well guess what, Antonio?  I'm in the goddamn House.  I'm one of two potential heirs should anything happen to _you_.  Nothing you can do will keep me _safe_.  If you _wanted_ someone you could lock away and keep safe you should have slept with my _brother_ ," he snarled, still trying to twist away from Antonio.

For a long moment Antonio didn't move. "I would never have slept with your brother," he said after a moment.

Lovino's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything in response to that, "Are you going to let go of me or not?"

"Lovino," he said, still slow. "I would not have slept with your brother, do you not actually believe that?" Even so, he finally stepped back, green eyes wide.

Lovino took advantage of that, snatching up his jacket and managing to duck past Antonio, snapping over his shoulder as he finally made his escape, "Why not, everyone else always wanted to."

"I don't want to sleep with Feliciano!" Antonio yelled. "I never have!"

Lovino ignored him, the front door slamming behind him.  He strode blindly down the street to a dive he knew of, slipping inside and looking around for a fight to pick.  He ordered a drink while he was trying to find someone and it was only then that he realized that he'd left the house with only his knives on him.  He brushed that thought aside as he finished off his drink and finally found a target.  What he didn't see when he started were the guy's two friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Nordics and Nataraja (India). We're not sure where they came from but we're glad they're here.
> 
> Also, our reaction to Antonio and Lovino's fight and glimpse into your authors' minds (it's a terrifying place):  
> [6/28/2013 9:00:10 PM] VS: ((This just in with breaking news! Antonio has just set off Volcano Lovino and all residents are recommended to evacuate the area))  
> [6/28/2013 9:01:12 PM] Medda: ((Minimum safe distance...not sure there is one))  
> [6/28/2013 9:01:41 PM] VS: ((The current suggestion is Mars))  
> [6/28/2013 9:01:59 PM] VS: ((Quick, convince the nordics to build you a space ship out of furniture))  
> [6/28/2013 9:02:14 PM] Medda: ((I'd catch the first flight past there, honestly.))


	14. That Intrinsic Part of Their Soul

Arthur strolled along the sidewalk, pausing to consider a window display and ignoring the fact that he could see Cameron in the reflection.  At least the redhead was honoring his demand that he not actually walk _with_ him.  He had moments where he could not for the life of him remember why he had chosen Cameron for his guard.  It probably had a lot to do with trusting his brother more than the rest of the House, which said a lot of how much he trusted his House since he was sure that he still hated his brother more often than not.

He caught a glimpse of a familiar fedora in the reflection and tensed.  It couldn't be.  He turned, green eyes scanning quickly and focusing on the other man.  Hand tightening on the silver rose handle of his walking stick, Arthur drew himself together and let his expression revert to his long perfected disinterested mask.

Turning to profile from where he had been considering something in the shop window, Nataraja paused before turning all the way around.

The Head of the English House looked him over briefly, "I had no idea you were back in town.  When did you get in?"

"But a day ago," he said, tone easy. "I had no idea you had even noticed."

"It's hard to miss when someone like you disappears for so long," Arthur replied with a careless shrug.  "I had assumed you were dead." The lie was less blatant that it could have been.

Nataraja smiled, the right side of his mouth quirking up. "I'm not nearly that easy to kill."

"So I see," Arthur inclined his head.  "How have you been since last you set foot in town?"

"You sound so disappointed," Nataraja said slowly. "I'm sorry I didn't manage to get myself killed in all the excitement of the last several months."

"Disappointed is the wrong term," the other answered evenly, though his life always felt like it got more complicated whenever he encountered Nataraja.  "It would be far more disappointing if you had gotten yourself killed.  You've always been too clever for that."

That earned Arthur a faint laugh. "Well, I'm glad not to disappoint then. And to think, you're one of the first to greet me on my return home." The last word was said a shade ironically.

"One of the first?"  Arthur's brow arched at that, trying to decide if he wanted to ask who else or if he thought the other would answer.

Nataraja's grin was almost feral. "Ivan beat you to it."

The blond tensed visibly at that, "And how is our charming Head of the Russian House doing?"

Nataraja rolled his eyes upward. "As he ever does."

"Which you'll pardon me for not taking as good news, I hope," Arthur all but drawled.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Nataraja shrugged. "I prefer him as he is, but I could see all the trouble it's causing you. Your house of cards threatening to fall down?"

"Threatening?"  Arthur scoffed, "It was _threatening_ when Carriedo came to power and promptly got himself shot.  It has long since toppled."

"Carriedo is in power now?" Nataraja said, eyebrows going up. "I must be sure to congratulate him."

Arthur smiled thinly at that, not remarking on the lack of congratulations he had heard when he’d come to power, "I'm sure he would appreciate the thought.  It seems to have been a relatively smooth transition, beyond members of his own House shooting at him."

"Members of one House shooting their leader usually does not count as a smooth transition of power," Nataraja said, shaking his head. "But I assume it has settled since then."

"He made rather a public demonstration of the attempted assassin from what I heard," Arthur shrugged.  "But, yes it has seemed to settle."

"Public demonstrations seem to have that effect," he agreed. "It's almost too bad you were never very good at them."

"I didn't require them," Arthur replied smoothly.

"Not in that regard," Nataraja agreed.

Green eyes skimmed over him at that, "I have areas where I'm far more effective."

"So how has life been treating you?" Nataraja asked, hands in his pockets as he watched the other.

"Much the same as it ever has," Arthur answered, withdrawing his cigarette case and holding it out to the other.  

Cameron plucked up one of the cigarettes before Nataraja could say one way or the other, "Is that what you call self-sabotaging your relationships, Arthur?" 

Arthur offered him a dark look as he lit his own smoke, "I recall telling you to bugger off, Cam."

Nataraja looked between the two of them. "Does he sabotage his own relationships?" he asked, tone mild and expression sharp.

Arthur offered his brother a warning look which Cameron ignored through long practice, "Well, that's certainly what he did a handful of months ago."  He glanced toward Arthur, "How was it he described you when last you spoke?  Was it manipulative bastard or manipulative little shit?" 

"Cameron, I will take great pleasure in gutting you one of these days," Arthur grit from between clenched teeth.

"He?" Nataraja asked, tone still mild as he looked between them. "Dear Arthur, whoever had you been sleeping with?"

"I'm not sure that's actually your concern anymore," Arthur answered, his tone bordering on cold.  

"Oh come now, the whole city knows, or practically," Cameron replied, earning him a scowl before Arthur finally answered begrudgingly.  

"Sadiq."

For a long moment, Nataraja didn't move or react. "Really." he deadpanned finally. "However did something like that come about?"

Arthur shrugged dismissively, "It hardly matters now."

"I suppose it doesn't," he agreed, not taking his hands from his pockets. "After all, those things that are past no longer matter to you."

There was the briefest flicker in Arthur's eyes that might have been taken for pain before he fell behind his mask again, "As you say.  There's enough to concern me in the present, dwelling on the past only exacerbates matters."

When Arthur brought his cigarette down, Nataraja plucked it from his hand, taking a long drag from it. "You're right in your own mind of course.  The past is past."

Gaze following that motion, Arthur didn't protest and had to remind himself to meet Nataraja's eyes rather than focus however briefly on his lips, "Nothing we can change about that, after all."

Smiling with his mouth closed, Nataraja flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette. "Nothing indeed. Not even with Sadiq now."

"At least I came out of _that_ with something," Arthur said, his tone harsher than he intended.

"Was it worth what you lost?" Nataraja asked, eyes lidded as he watched Arthur.

"The benefit outweighed what loss there was," Arthur answered simply, though he questioned the veracity of that statement frequently enough on his own.

"Was it?" Nataraja asked, making it sound rhetorical.

"It usually is," came the response with another dismissive shrug.

Laughing, Nataraja offered back what remained of the cigarette. "Of course, you could do no wrong."

Arthur accepted it, considering it before finishing it off and stubbing it out.  His tone was wry, "Never.  After all that would mean I was capable of errors in judgment and my judgment has always been impeccable."

"Always," Nataraja said, drawing the word out.

"It got me where I am today," Arthur said.  

Cameron shook his head from where he was a few paces off, having retreated once he'd stolen the cigarette and aired Arthur's relationship with Sadiq, "A lonely, bitter man pushing forty."

"How tragic," Nataraja continued to drawl. "To think _you_ ended up alone."

"It happens to a lot of people," Arthur replied, keeping his tone neutral even as he weighed how many ways he could kill Cameron and who he could find to replace him.  "And I'm quite content that way."

"To be lonely and bitter?" Nataraja laughed. "Yes, how content."

"Anything Cameron says is to be dismissed out of hand.  He's hardly one to talk after all," Arthur muttered.

"Of course, who wouldn't be content in such a life?" Nataraja said, arching a careful brow.

Arthur shook his head very slightly, "Oh I'm sure there are some."

"But never you," he said, taking a step closer. "You may be good at being bitter, but never happy being lonely."

The Englishman held his ground, though he tensed, "People change."

"Not that much," he said, brushing the back of one finger across Arthur's cheek. "Not in that intrinsic part of their soul."

Arthur froze completely at that touch, willing himself not to lean into it, "Perhaps not.  I'm hardly lonely, though."

"Aren't you?" he asked. "Then who do you have?" He didn't move back or withdraw his hands.

"I'm surrounded by people," came the almost muted response.  He hated the way the other could see through him even after all the years between them.

 "And how close do you let such people?" Nataraja asked.

"As close as they need to be."

"Which for you isn't close at all," he said, shaking his head and still not moving. "More like at broomstick's length. So your Cameron is right. You're old, lonely, and bitter about it."

Arthur dropped his gaze, but didn't draw back, "I haven't the time.  And it's not as though I can make any sort of change to it now."

"Couldn't you?" Nataraja asked, quirking his brows up.

"As I have rather succinctly been told, I'm far too manipulative." His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile, "And there's too much else that requires my attention within the House."

"Oh Arthur," he said, voice soft. "It's not something you have the time for, it's something you make the time for."

"It's been many years since I've been good at making time for that sort of thing," he murmured.

"It was once something you were good at," Nataraja said, wavering and not stepping back.

"As I said, it's been many years.  Three Heads and two children ago."  He sighed, biting back anything further he might say on that subject, starting to remember that they were still standing on the public street.

Something passed over Nataraja's expression. "Perhaps," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Perhaps that explains it. But you should not..."

"Mayhap not, but I do regardless.  There's not really anyone I trust enough, after all," Arthur replied, trying to find his footing again and feeling like his walls were crumbling and letting his bitterness and pain slip through.

"Why not?" Nataraja asked, eyes not moving away from him.

"You spend enough time as a poisoner and in the English House and you lose what little trust you might have had to offer," he answered, lips curling upward humorlessly.

"Then you should never have spent your time there," Nataraja said, voice gaining a harsh edge that he wished he'd suppressed better.

Arthur paused at that, meeting Nataraja's eyes for a long moment before shaking his head, "I made my choice.  No matter how bad of one it looks now, I can't change it and I'm not quite certain I would even if I could."

"Of course not," he said, voice smoothed out again. "Because what's past is past and you would never doubt yourself. If you'll excuse me, Kirkland."

Arthur managed not to flinch at the use of his last name before he stepped back, "Right, of course.  Good day, sir."

"Sir," Nataraja said and shook his head dismissively. "That's what you would rather be."

The Englishman's jaw tensed and he took another step back, "Right, yes.  Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer."

"Be on your merry way then," Nataraja said with a shrug, hands back in his pants pockets.

Arthur paused for the briefest of moments before touching his brow and turning away, "Good day." For a long time Nataraja didn't move, simply watching him go.

Cameron fell into step beside Arthur, but kept his mouth shut for once.  As soon as they had returned to the house, Arthur retreated to his office long enough to find a bottle of scotch and then disappeared into his rooms, locking the door.

o-o-o

Sitting at the doorway, Antonio's head snapped up when he heard footsteps, preparing a reason for him to be there, like an abandoned puppy, that didn't actually have anything to do with why he was waiting. "Ah, Feliciano," he said instead, sinking back down into the chair and leaning his head against the window.

"Still no sign of him?" Feliciano asked, watching the Head of the House.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "He probably came in the back door but I don't want to leave long enough to check in case he sneaks in here..." he sighed and shook his head again.

"I can go check his room, it shouldn't take me very long to find out," the younger man offered.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Antonio nodded. "He accused me of wanting to sleep with you, right before storming out the door. I just... I'd like him to know I was waiting I guess? It's stupid, I should go find something to do."

"I'll go check, you can hang around the hall if you like," Feliciano shrugged, ignoring the idea of Antonio having ever wanted to sleep with him.

"Alright," he said, tone listless as he rested his head against the window.

Feliciano sighed before heading up the stairs to knock repeatedly on his brother's door.

Lovino growled and pulled his blankets over his head at the third knock in as many minutes accompanied by his twin's voice, "Fratello, Lovi, I know you're in there.  Let me in, please?"

He considered ignoring the other, but knew that wouldn't make him leave.  Shoving all his blankets off, he got up, unlocked the door and tapped it twice before retreating.  He hadn't even made it the short distance to the bed before the door opened and the light from the hall nearly blinded him, "Shut the damn door if you're coming in or get out."

Feliciano stood in the door for a moment longer before stepping in and plunging them into darkness, "Can we turn on a lamp?"

"You're the one who wanted to come in.  What do you want?"

"How long have you been back?"

"A while.  What do you want?"

"Antonio's downstairs waiting for you to come in," Feliciano murmured.

Lovino snorted, "Of course he is.  What do you want?" He repeated a third time, his temper rising at the continual avoidance.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Feliciano hesitated, "You're not injured worse, are you?"

Lovino mentally cursed the worry in his brother's voice.  Feliciano was far too easy to read, "No."

"And you're not sick, or drunk?"  His hand was slapped away the second it made contact with bare skin.

"No," came the harsh growl.

"I know you had a fight, but, fratello, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong besides you being here.  Go away."

"Something is wrong."  He paused before pulling out a card that might get him a response, "I'll go get Antonio, surely he can tell me."

"No!"  Lovino lunged toward his brother, catching his wrist before he could get to the door, "Feliciano, you listen to me and you listen good, got it?"

"Lovino, you're holding on too tight," Feliciano managed, trying to twist away.

Lovino dug his nails in, "Got it?"

"I'm listening, fratello."

"That bastard Spaniard has no place here.  Antonio hears _nothing_ , got it?"

"I-"

"Did you hear me?" Lovino grit out, feeling a twinge of guilt when Feliciano's voice shook.

"Yes.  I won't ask Antonio.  Will, will you let me go?"

Lovino released his brother and retreated to turn on a lamp.  He refused to turn around for fear of the look he was sure Feliciano was giving him.  He flinched at a sharply drawn breath from behind him as his brother caught sight of the bad bruising on his shoulders and lower back from the fight he had misjudged earlier.  It took all his control not to recoil when Feliciano's cool hands touched his shoulders and the younger twin placed feather light kisses on the bruises.  Lovino felt tears hitting the skin of his back.

Feliciano's voice was tight, "You said you weren't hurt more."

"I said I wasn't more injured," Lovino corrected with far less venom than he intended.

"What do you call this, fratello?" Feliciano's voice grew harder as he stabbed a finger against a particularly nasty looking bruise and earned a yelp.

"It's just bruises.  Why are you still here?"  Lovino found himself yanked around to face his brother whose cheeks were tearstained.

"Because you're hurt and locked in the dark and I don't want you to be."

Lovino's expression closed off at that, "You don't get everything you want."  He caught Feliciano by the arm and dragged him to the door, bodily tossing him into the hall.  He froze when he saw Antonio up the hall and met the other man's eyes.  It was at that point that he realized two things: first, his chest was also littered with bruises and second, that the only thing he was wearing was a pair of boxers.  He went bright red and scowled as he slammed and locked the door again, leaving Feliciano sitting on the floor cradling his wrist.

For a long moment Antonio didn't move before he glided down the hallway, not even really seeming to walk as he moved. "Lovino," he said, reaching the door and holding a hand down to Feliciano. "Open the door."

"You want the door open, pick the lock," Lovino's voice came through muffled.  Feliciano eyed Antonio's hand before taking it and rising, still holding his wrist close to his body for the moment.

Antonio glanced over at Feliciano. "Are you well enough to get Alfonso? He's better at picking locks."

Feliciano nodded, slipping away quickly to find Alfonso, still checking over his wrist as he went.

Leaning his hands and his forehead against the door, Antonio spoke softly. "The only reason I'm not breaking down the door, Lovi, is because I'm hoping I mistook what I saw."

"Don't know what you saw, so I can't say," Lovino said, quickly pulling clothes on.

"Lovino, open the door before Alfonso gets here," Antonio said, voice dropping again.

"Why?"

"Because it will go better if I don't have to fight to get inside," Antonio said.

Lovino finished pulling on his shirt and slacks, fastening the last button before gritting his teeth and opening the door.

Antonio looked him over once. "Strip again," he said. "Or I can do it for you."

"Don't you fucking dare touch me," Lovino growled, backing up a solid step.

"Let me see," he said, voice still level and sounding calm if not for his expression.

Lovino kept himself steady, "Is that an order?"

For a moment Antonio didn't move. "Yes."

The Italian's jaw tensed and he froze for a long moment before forcefully unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it off, leaving the slacks in place.  There was a small nick at the back of his right ankle, but it was the only damage below his waist.

For a long moment Antonio didn't react. Alfonso appeared at the door way, took a quick look over Lovino and retreated to get a closer look at Feliciano's wrist instead. "What did you do?" Antonio asked, voice still level.

"I went out for a drink," Lovino replied, half-honestly.

"And then?" he asked, still calm.

"I don't remember.  Said something stupid probably."

"How bad is it?" Antonio asked, still not having moved much. "If I find out you've lied to me I will take your door away."

"It's just bruises." Lovino answered, pausing for a long moment and weighing how honest that threat was before finishing, "And a nick at the back of my right ankle."

"And these are all the bruises?" Antonio asked to confirm.

He nodded, "Yes."

"If you are stupid enough to get yourself beaten because of a fight when you're already wounded, you probably don't deserve your position," Antonio said, voice still not fluctuating. "You will stay in and you will take care of yourself enough to actually heal. If you don't, I will take your position away and you will work in the kitchens. Am I entirely clear?"

Lovino froze at that, eyes wide, "You..."

"You got yourself beaten this time," Antonio said. "You went out, without back up, without anyone to watch out for you and you lived. One of them could have had a gun, or a knife. If you're that stupid how can I expect you to watch my back?"

He flinched back, and finally dropped his gaze, "Understood."  He shifted his weight onto his left foot to take it off of the very slight cut on his right ankle.

"If you expect to take care of me, you have to take care of yourself first or I'm in danger," he said. "I can take Lars out with me for the next few weeks but do not let this happen again."

"Yes, sir," Lovino murmured, still not looking at Antonio.  "I will stay in.  I will heal."

"Good," he said, his voice never having changed since he entered the room. He turned on his heel, stepping toward the door.

Lovino let him go, sinking down on his bed and lifting his ankle to check over the nick there, still hearing the threat to hamstring him and make him useless as anything but Antonio's whore.  And he still couldn't be sure who the people were.

Still moving with barely contained rage, Antonio walked down the hallways until he stopped by where Feliciano's room was. "How is your wrist?" he asked, hovering in the doorway.

Feliciano looked up, "It's bruised."  He held up his arm to show the brace, "Sore too, so Alfonso splinted it to keep it from moving.  But it's my left wrist so I can still paint at least."  He considered Antonio for a long moment, "What happened?"

"How do you mean?" Antonio asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know exactly.  Are you, no that's a stupid question."

"We had a fight," he said and paused. "I told him I wasn't sure I wanted him as my bodyguard because it meant it could someday come down to him or me being killed. He accused me of wanting to sleep with you and stormed out and got himself beaten. I..." he paused again. "I told him if he couldn't take care of himself I'd make him work in the kitchen."

Feliciano drew a deep breath, "How did he take that?"

"Badly," Antonio said and slammed the palm of his hand against the doorframe. "God damn it."

"There's only so much you can do though," Feliciano said quietly.

"But Feli, what are we doing?" he asked, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?"

"What are we thinking?" Antonio said, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. "He and I. If this is how we fight..."

"It isn't always.  You've fought before," Feliciano offered.

"And his first reaction is still to accuse me of wanting someone else—anyone else it seems!—than him."

Feliciano paused, "He puts a lot of stock in his position..."

"I thought he was the one who didn't like being known for handling a gun!" Antonio said, unable to help it anymore.

"I'm not saying it makes sense."

"Feli, I," he said after a pause, staring at the wall, tightening and loosening his hand. "I gave him an order. I told myself for this to work I couldn't do that and yet I did."

Feliciano froze at that, "You...you gave him an order?"

"As the Head of the House it is my right," he said, voice low. "But I should never have... And certainly not because I was angry."

"Did you do it because you were angry?"

"Yes," he ground the word out.

Feliciano sighed, "Then it happened.  You, you can't change that.  You just, I don't know."

"Why doesn't he understand I'd rather have him safe?" Antonio said, voice dropping.

The artist shook his head, "I don't know.  Lovino...well, you, you saw the painting.  He thinks, or acts like he thinks, that it matters much, much more that everyone else is safe."

"Can't he project that desire onto others?" Antonio murmured.

Feliciano shook his head, "That would be nice, but it's Lovino.  He doesn't tend to think like that."

Still leaning against the door, Antonio glanced over at him. "But you're fine?" he asked quietly.

"It's just sore, I'll be alright.  Really," Feliciano offered Antonio a reassuring nod.

"I'm glad," he said quietly.

"Are you going to be alright?"  Feliciano asked after a brief moment.

"Eventually," he said with a shrug. "I should probably... leave him alone for a while though."

"He'll come back," the younger twin spoke with more conviction than he was quite sure he felt.

"If you say so," Antonio said, clearly not believing it. He couldn't breathe with the thought of avoiding Lovino.

"Did he honestly think you would have slept with me?"

"He said that was clearly what I wanted," Antonio said, not looking at him.

Feliciano muttered something under his breath in Italian that sounded violent, "Bastards.  I want ten minutes to go back in time and, and, I don't know if there's anything adequate to do that doesn't involve more violence than I like."

"What do you mean?" Antonio asked with a frown. "Who...?"

"I mean that I think that you're the first person who's actually looked at and pursued Lovino because he's _Lovino_."

For a long moment Antonio didn't move. "Did someone in the past go after him instead of you?"

"At least once that I know of.  Maybe twice," Feliciano replied, his mouth twisting.  "You didn't pursue Vargas' favorite apparently."

"Frankly he would have killed anyone who he found pursuing Lovino too," Antonio said. "You didn't pursue either of you."

"Yeah?  Well someone forgot to mention that to at least one son of a bitch.  Lovino didn't talk to me for months after he figured it out."

Antonio's mouth twisted. "I would have knocked out all his teeth and fuck, informed him all the ways Vargas would have killed him let alone what I would have done to him if I had known."

Feliciano nodded, "Lovino started talking to me by yelling at me about it and then swearing me to silence so Grandfather wouldn't find out that anything had happened."

"Probably the only thing that saved that bastard's life," Antonio said. "I knew... I supposed that had happened but does he honestly still think that's how I feel about him?"

"I think he's not sure what to do with someone who doesn't feel about him like that," Feliciano admitted.  "He," he paused.  "His proficiency with guns and his position are the things that he's better than I am and always has been.  There are many other things, but those are the things he latches onto."

"Damnit," Antonio said faintly. "I just... damnit."

"You'll sort it out.  You both will," Feliciano replied.  "You don't want to lose him.  He doesn't want to lose you either.  And he sure won't trust anyone else with your life.  But it'll take figuring that out."

"Figuring out," Antonio huffed and shook his head. "Yeah, figuring out. I'll let you get some rest then."

"Try to get some yourself," Feliciano responded, watching the other closely.

Barely keeping in the hysterical laughter, Antonio offered Feliciano a smile. "Of course," he said.

Feliciano offered him a look that evidenced how little he bought that, but he returned the smile faintly, "Good luck."

"Sleep well, Feli," he said and retreated.

Sighing, Feliciano lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.  He drew a deep breath and rolled over, careful of his wrist, and grabbed his phone.  Flicking quickly through his contacts he found the one he was looking for and hit send as he rose to close his door.

The phone rang several times, Ludwig snapping out of the sleep he'd finally fallen into. "Hello?" he asked, voice sleep rough as he automatically tried to smooth his hair back.

Feliciano paused for a moment, "Oh God, I woke you up."

"Feliciano?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me.  I'm sorry, I didn't think about what time it was.  I just, I wanted to talk to you and I didn't mean to wake you up.  I should let you get back to sleep, you probably aren't getting enough of it."

"I never do," Ludwig said. "I'm awake now, it's fine."

"It's not really.  I should have waited for morning.  It's not like there's anything important that I had to talk to you about.  I just missed your voice and I think I'm about to go crazy in this House," he rattled off, eyes widening when he realized he'd said the part about the House out loud.

"I think we're all in danger of going crazy in our Houses," Ludwig said, smiling wryly. "What's happening?" He wanted to say he missed hearing Feliciano's voice too and couldn't quite manage it.

"Lovino got himself injured," he answered, voice quavering ever so slightly at that thought.  "It's not bad, just a graze but it was enough to, well, Antonio didn't handle it well."

Ludwig took a deep breath and slowly let it back out. "I could imagine."

"It, they had a bad fight.  Lovino went out and picked a fight with God only knows who.  He's hurt worse now and I just," he let out a frustrated sound.  "He accused 'Tonio of wanting to sleep with me.  Which is completely ridiculous.  Antonio doesn't want me and never has and that's a good thing.  Lovino needs that, but he doesn't get it, and I wish he would because he's so much more than he thinks he is."

"He got himself more abused after being already injured?" Ludwig asked.

"It's Lovino.  I never said he was smart."

"Please tell me you wouldn't do that," Ludwig said before he could think about it.

"I try to avoid getting hurt in general.  I don't like pain," Feliciano replied, forgetting about his wrist as he shifted.  He hissed slightly at that and then closed his eyes.

"Feliciano, what's wrong?" Ludwig asked quickly.

"I'm alright, it's a single bruise," Feliciano assured before answering further.  "My wrist is a little banged up.  Alfonso looked it over and braced it to let it heal fully.  No lasting damage."

"How'd you get the bruise?" Ludwig asked.

"I threatened to go to Antonio when Lovino wouldn't tell me what had happened.  He didn't pay attention to how hard he gripped to stop me," Feliciano sighed.  "But I'm okay.  It's not my stronger hand."

Ludwig took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Right," he said, trying to remind himself he and Gilbert had used to give each other bruises all the time.

"I'm okay, and he didn't mean to," the Italian spoke firmly.  "How are you doing?"

"You said your House was driving you crazy?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano huffed a laugh at that, "That bad?"

"Can you get out, tonight?" he asked suddenly.

Sitting up at that and considering, he nodded before answering out loud, "Yes.  Where?"

"Anywhere," Ludwig said. "Where would you like? There's a festival of some sort going on."

"That sounds like a good place to me.  Shall we meet there?"

"Yes," Ludwig said softly. "Please."

Feliciano smiled, "I'll see you there."

"Thank you," Ludwig said, hanging up the phone and scrambling to get dressed.

Feliciano got up, checking his appearance and changing into something a bit more comfortable and less paint-stained before slipping out of his room.  He stuck his head into Alfonso's room when he saw the light still on to let him know he was going out so that someone at least would know.  He retreated before the medic could say anything and grabbed the keys to one of the cars, heading out to meet Ludwig.

Ludwig stood at the gate to the park where an out of town carnival had come, hands in the pockets of his long coat and wearing a dark hat. He'd not informed anyone where he was and while he was certain Vash and Roderich would kill him in the morning he couldn't bring himself to care.

Feliciano managed to find parking and approached from up the block, offering the German a smile, "Hello."

"Hello," he said, holding out a hand, though he frowned when he got a look at Feliciano's wrist.

Feliciano slipped his right hand into Ludwig's, carefully sliding his left into his pocket to hide the brace a little bit, "How long do you have?"

"As long as you want," Ludwig murmured. "At least until the morning."

"You really ought to be sleeping," Feliciano replied, taking a step closer to him as they reached the carnival.

"I ought to be," Ludwig said. "But this is more important right now."

That earned a happy smile as Feliciano looked up at him, "Thank you."

Turning slightly, Ludwig grinned down at him. "I wanted to get out too. I wanted," he fumbled for the words. "I wanted to see you too."

Feliciano's eyes lit up at that and he didn't think about it as he dropped Ludwig's hand and instead looped their arms together, "I'm glad.  I've missed you."

Shoulders tensing in surprise, Ludwig relaxed them as he looked down with a smile. "I'm glad you came."

"Well, I could hardly say no.  Like I said, I missed you.  And of course there's the festival."  He considered, "You know, if you ever get time, there's a nice little place a little way into Roman territory that I'd, well I'd like to show you.  I mean, if, if you think you could."

"We're allies now," Ludwig said. "Though, I might actually have to get Vash's permission to do something like that."

"That's your guard?" Feliciano glanced up at him.

Ludwig nodded. "He and Gilbert. Vash is a bit more steady though and... well..." he took a deep breath and let it out. "Currently our main guard."

"Has there been any more word on your brother?" Feliciano asked quietly.

"Not much," Ludwig sighed. "We've been trying to get a negotiator that Ivan would be willing to work with but so far no one."

Feliciano paused for a moment, "He hasn't made any demands at all?"

"No," Ludwig said, letting out a long breath. "No one's heard why he has Gilbert or what he'd take to give him up. It's been... weeks, months even and there's been nothing."

"But the last you'd heard, Gilbert was being treated well, right?"

He nodded. "And he's the one who told us not to break the door in. If I thought he was being hurt..." Ludwig shook his head.

"Then nothing would stop you from doing just that and probably getting yourself killed," Feliciano said simply, though something flashed in his eyes briefly.

"Yes," Ludwig agreed, not even trying to deny any element of the statement. "I just wish I knew what was happening to him there."

"Maybe the negotiations will, will help," came the murmured response, Feliciano's gaze sweeping around the festival trying to find something to divert them at least a little bit.

Ludwig looked to the side. "There's ice cream," he said. "Or, or cotton candy. What would you like to do?" he asked, looking back.

Feliciano got an almost mischievous glint in his eyes, "I haven't had cotton candy in a long time.  I think that sounds really good, actually."

The corner of Ludwig's mouth twitched, finding it terribly sweet. "Alright. Would you like to share it?"

"If you'd like," the Italian replied.  "I certainly don't mind."

"You might have to teach me how to eat it," Ludwig said as they reached the stand and he handed over the money for the vibrant blue candy.

Feliciano blinked once at him, "You haven't had it before?"

"Carnivals aren't really Otho approved," Ludwig shrugged. "And I've never had Roderich's sweet tooth."

That earned a nod as Feliciano reached over and pinched off a bit of the candy, "Well, it's really just a matter of pulling a bit off and eating it.  Not all that difficult, it pretty much melts in your mouth."

Ludwig paused before repeating that motion. "It's rather sticky," he murmured, trying to drop it in his mouth as effortlessly as Feliciano seemed to make it look.

Feliciano laughed, "But that's half the fun of it."  He took another piece of the spun sugar, running the tip of his tongue over his lips to catch any stray sugar. Ludwig blinked once, color rising in his cheeks as he tried again.

After a few more bites, Feliciano looked at his thumb and first finger to find the candy still stuck there.  Under the pretense of not letting that go to waste he let his thumb slip into his mouth to the base of his nail before repeating the motion with his first finger, glancing up at Ludwig with an expression just barely within the realm of innocence, "Do you like it?"

Eyes wide, Ludwig cleared his throat. "It's sweet," he managed.

Taking another bit, Feliciano let his eyes slide shut briefly as he savored it, "I haven't had it in so long, I forgot how much I like it sometimes."

Making a half strangled noise, Ludwig nodded, trying to get himself back under control. "Did you used to have it often then?"

"Whenever there was a carnival in town," the other answered, glancing at the depleted cotton candy, "Do you want the last of it?"

For a second Ludwig considered taking it just so Feliciano couldn't tease him anymore but he shook his head. "It's yours."

Feliciano offered him a bright smile at that, "Grazie."  He finished it off quickly, but took an extra moment to lick the remaining sugar from the tips of his fingers and his lips.

Ludwig swallowed hard again. "Are there many things you enjoy as much as that?"

The Italian smiled up at him, all innocence, "Gelato, for sweet things I mean."

"For sweet things?" Ludwig asked, filing that information away.

"Then you get into actual meals and that's an entirely different situation," he answered.  "It's not quite so, easy, to savor in the same way though."

"And you like to savor things," Ludwig said with a fond smile.

"Good things should be savored, whether they're food, or moments or company," Feliciano said, nodding very slightly.

"And are you savoring this?" Ludwig asked and wanted to hit himself.

Feliciano's smile was brilliant at that, "Very much."

"Then I'm glad," Ludwig said, color still high on his cheeks.

"Are you enjoying it?" Feliciano asked after a moment, slipping his arm through Ludwig's again.

"Yes," he said, looking down and smiling. "It's good to see you, and the people and the lights," he looked around again. "It's odd to see so many people getting along. I wish it weren't."

"They don't have to worry about Houses, beyond making sure not to get caught up in the crossfire," Feliciano murmured, sighing very softly.

"Whereas we were born into such a position we could do nothing else," Ludwig said, shaking his head.

"All in the luck of something we have no control over at all."

"Yes," Ludwig said, looking around again.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we led different lives?"

"Always," he said, without thinking about it. Corners of his mouth twitching, he glanced down. "I would have liked to meet you earlier."

"In a different life we might not have met at all, though," Feliciano pointed out, before pausing.  "How much earlier?"

"I would have liked more time before I became Head," Ludwig said. "For instance."

"I should have just introduced myself when I saw you the first time," Feliciano murmured, mostly to himself.

"When was that?" Ludwig asked, watching him.

"A couple of weeks before Antonio's first meet with your grandfather.  I think."

"I would have liked months," Ludwig said faintly. "But even weeks." Before he could really think about it he ran the tips of his fingers down Feliciano's face and snatched his hand back. "I... I'm sorry."

Feliciano blinked up at him in mild confusion, "For what?"

"That was presumptuous of me," he said, looking away.

The smaller man reminded himself not to laugh in response to that, though considering what he'd been doing with the cotton candy it was laughable that Ludwig considered _that_ touch presumptuous, "You are virginal, aren't you?" Feliciano's tone held a healthy dose of amusement but he paused when he realized exactly what he'd said.

Ludwig choked, going bright red as he sputtered and tried to breathe.

Feliciano grimaced very slightly before reaching up and placing a hand on Ludwig's cheek, "I mean...I mean you already kissed me.  Touching my cheek seems more like a step back toward propriety than presumption at that point."

Ludwig's left hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. "But that was... unusual for me. It was driven by the moment and I didn't expect it. Now I don't know."

"You're thinking about this too much," Feliciano said, drawing his hand back.

"I can't help it," Ludwig said and he sounded distressed. "I have to think about everything now and I can't sleep because I just keep thinking and I don't know how to stop. And I never kissed someone before you and yet you mention that I am virginal which of course I am but," he paused, trying to get the words he wanted out. "But I'd like to," he tried finally, looking away. "With you. Someday."

Feliciano blinked, wide-eyed at him for a moment before blushing at that, "I...It's not like I'm one to, to talk in that area.  But I..."  He drew a deep breath, "This is one area where you don't need to think so much."  Pausing and sparing a quick glance around and finding that they had somehow meandered down what equated to an alley between two booths and no one seemed to be around he rose up on his toes and pressed a light kiss to Ludwig's cheek.  "I mean, no faster than you're comfortable with, but I, I really _really_ like you and it's okay to at least try not to overthink us."

Still blushing, Ludwig nodded. "I'll try not to overthink us," he said quietly. "But that doesn't mean I can stop thinking about... us."

Smile brightening at that, Feliciano shook his head, "I would, I would kind of hope not.  I mean I end up thinking about us too, but you don't have to worry about touching me or kissing me.  We bypassed all of the dancing around each other in that regard, heat of the moment or not."

"I still don't want to presume," Ludwig managed but he twined their fingers together.

"I'm very vocal.  You will know if it's something I don't want," Feliciano promised.  "I lied to my brother to finally get the chance to meet you, so please, presume."

Ludwig blinked. “What?"

Pausing, the other glanced up at him, "Oh, that's right I hadn't, um, hadn't told you that yet had I?"

"You lied to your brother?" Ludwig repeated.

"Well, um, just a little.  Okay, maybe more than a little.  I just, I'd seen you in the neutral zone and I didn't know how to actually get the chance to meet you so I sort of skipped class and told Lovino I had permission, which I usually don't have, to go to the meet with your grandfather, and, well, yes.  I lied to my brother."

Ludwig looked at him for a long moment. "And I have permission to kiss you again?" he asked softly.

"Yes. I mean, of course you do.  I said that didn't I?  Did I forget to say that?"

Before he could think about it any longer, Ludwig leaned down and kissed him again, cupping his cheeks with his hands. They were standing near the side of a booth, the rest of the carnival flowing around them and the bright lights painting the entire scene. Feliciano paused before all but melting into the kiss, his uninjured hand moving to rest against Ludwig's shoulder as the noise around them seemed to fade.

Pulling away for air, Ludwig seemed to consider before leaning down again, nudging their mouths together. Feliciano pulled him closer, pressing up against the other man as he returned the kiss, letting himself forget everything but the feel and smell of Ludwig. Drawing back again, Ludwig let his fingers stroke Feliciano's cheekbones. "I quite," he started to say and tried again. "Thank you," he said but that didn't sound right either.

Smiling fondly, the other shook his head very slightly, "You're welcome. Thank you too."

With a last touch, Ludwig forced himself to draw back. "Is there... is there anything else you'd like to do here?"

Feliciano bit back the first two answers that came to mind before he shrugged, "I don't know.  Being out with you is enough right now for me. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"I don't know," he said, looking around. "It's a carnival, isn't it?"

"Well, there's booths with games that are rigged, some rides, other booths as well," he considered.  "What if we just walk and see if something catches our eye?"

"Alright," Ludwig agreed, curling their hands together and considering the route they were going to take and how many spots were out of the way enough to sneak more kisses. He wanted to kick himself for the thought but couldn't quite.

Feliciano walked close to Ludwig, letting his eyes skim over the people around them, but most of his attention focused on the German.  He paused after a few minutes though, "Hey, isn't that Alfred?"

"From the English House?" Ludwig asked, looking over at where Alfred was animatedly talking to a shorter, serious looking man and gesturing with the bright blue cotton candy he was holding. The other pair was walking toward them and Ludwig's eyebrows went shooting up.

Feliciano nodded, looking closer and blinking, "Is that who I think it is with him?"

The dark-haired man with Alfred was nodding occasionally as he listened, but kept giving the cotton candy a wary look as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with it and was expecting it to run into his white jacket.  Considering how much Alfred gesticulated while talking it wasn't an idle concern.

"Yes," Ludwig said in confusion.

"Come on, you just have to try it, it's really good," Alfred was saying as he finally glanced up to look ahead of them and froze when he noticed Ludwig and Feliciano staring at them.

"I have already said no, thank you," Kiku replied before seeing Ludwig and Feliciano.  His eyes widened very slightly but his expression didn't change otherwise.

Feliciano considered them for a moment before offering a smile, "Hello."

Alfred looked between them for a panicked moment, especially Ludwig with his long black coat and hands in his pockets. "Um, hi," he offered, laughing a shade too loud.

"Are you having good evening?"

Kiku nodded, offering a very slight bow, "Yes.  Thank you.  And you?"

"Oh it's been amazing," Feliciano replied, smile brightening just a bit more.

Ludwig blinked once from where he was watching them, as Alfred looked around frantically wondering if he could pretend not to be there with Kiku.

Kiku glanced at Alfred briefly before looking back to the Italian and German, focusing on Ludwig, "I hope it finds you well."

"It does," Ludwig nodded, hating the fact it still felt like he was blushing.

"Did you just decide to come out tonight?" Feliciano asked, looking at Alfred, "I didn't know you two knew each other."

Alfred's laugh was too loud again and he barely managed not to rub the back of his neck. "We, um, just sortta, ran into each other you know?" he tried, hoping the lie would be bought.

Kiku offered him another glance but nodded very slightly.  Feliciano didn't look like he believed that, "And decided to share cotton candy?"

"Yes," Alfred said as if that was considered perfectly normal. "Would you like some?" he added to make it appear like he didn't care.

Feliciano laughed and glanced at Ludwig, "No I think I probably shouldn't."

"We already had some," Ludwig said and considered hitting himself for the 'we.'

Kiku looked from one to the other and then to where Feliciano still hadn't let go of Ludwig's hand, "So you two are...?"

Feliciano nodded happily, but didn't say anything, knowing better for once.

Ludwig blushed deeper and for a second Alfred looked horribly jealous before he laughed again. "I should, I should go," he said, pointing to the side and starting to retreat with a last look at Kiku before he bolted.

Kiku watched him go, blinking once but his expression didn't change, "It is good to see you two.  I too, should be on my way, however."

Ludwig blinked once at where Alfred had melted away. "It's not my business," he said. "But even I could tell he was lying. Are you quite sure you know what you're doing?"

"He does not lie very well," Kiku admitted. His gaze moved to their joined hands, "Are you sure you do?"

"We're allies," Ludwig pointed out. "And even then it's not," he glanced once at Feliciano and away again. "Our families have many ties. Yours actively hate each other."

"And as long as we can both manage to survive, there may come a time when that is a truth of the past," Kiku said simply.

"And in the meantime?" Ludwig asked in shock.

Kiku considered that question, "In the meantime we try to be careful and stay alive."

"You're putting a lot of hope in a future that may never come," Ludwig said softly.

"When the present looks like it does, sometimes that is the hope one must live with," Kiku responded.  "I do not expect that it will happen, but if we live without hope, what do we live with?"

Considering him for a long moment, Ludwig nodded. "Good luck then. And you might want to tell him, when you see him again, I hardly have any intention of telling his uncle. If that would make him look at bit less," he paused, searching for the word. "Frazzled."

Kiku's lips actually twitched upward in a small smile that disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, "Perhaps it will."

"And I hope your future may appear someday," he said, unsure exactly why he meant it so much.

The heir to the Asian House offered a slight bow, looking between Ludwig and Feliciano, "And yours as well."

Ludwig inclined his head, wishing he could stop blushing. "Thank you."

Kiku nodded again, looking to Feliciano briefly, "Good night."

The Italian offered him a smile, "Good night.  Good luck."

Watching him go, Ludwig let out a long sigh. "And to think I thought we were mad."

"It does kind of put us in perspective," Feliciano agreed.  "I hope they do make it."

"I do too," Ludwig said. "I hope we make it for that matter."

"I think we will," Feliciano replied, releasing Ludwig's hand to slip his arm through the other's yet again.  "Either way, we have right now."

"We do," Ludwig agreed and leaned down to kiss him again while he still could.

Meanwhile, Kiku wove his way through the carnival to try and locate Alfred again, hoping the other hadn't simply left. Moments later Alfred appeared at his side, scratching the back of his neck. "Hey."

The other man glanced at him, "Hello.  Ludwig wished me to tell you that he has no intention of mentioning this to your uncle."

"Did he?" Alfred asked in surprise before shaking his head. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bolted like that it wasn't heroic or cool and I... look are you sure you still don't want any cotton candy?"

Kiku eyed the spun sugar and finally sighed, "I suppose I can try a little bit of it."

Alfred offered him a shaky smile. "Or, or you know, something else."

Kiku's lips twitched upward very slightly and he paused before reaching over and pinching off a small sampling of the cotton candy, "This is fine.  It is a good change."

"Yeah?" Alfred asked and grinned, though it slipped off his face moments later. "I never thought about holding your hand in public. Not like that."

Pausing for a moment as he considered the taste of the cotton candy and decided that it was in fact too sweet for his liking, Kiku shook his head, "It is too overt.  This is already too much if we were to, for instance, run into Matthew or Yong Soo or any of the others."

"I know that," Alfred said, putting his hands behind his head as they walked.

"But it doesn't change the fact that it would be nice to be able to," Kiku said simply, keeping his eyes focused ahead of them.

"There's a lot of things I wish I could do with you, to you, for you," Alfred said, not looking over at him.

Kiku blinked rapidly at that, feeling color rise to his cheeks, "Maybe someday."

"I wish someday was now," Alfred protested, eyebrows drawn together. "I hate sneaking around."

"I know. But it has gotten harder, not easier in recent weeks.  If, if something changes and the war does not actually happen then perhaps."

"And what do we do between now and then?" Alfred asked, looking at where Kiku's hand was by his side.

Kiku paused at that, finally glancing over at Alfred, "We keep it secret.  We meet only when the Houses are unlikely to know, in places that they are unlikely to be.  We move carefully and make certain that Yao and Arthur never find out."

"And you're still going to think this is worth it?" Alfred asked, voice having fallen.

That pulled the other up short, Kiku stopping completely at that to blink up at the blond, "Alfred."

"What?" he asked, looking down.

"I will think this is worth it.  Nothing is going to change that. I have been meeting with you because you are worth it.  Of course I will continue to do so."

"I just," Alfred said. "Because of what's going on, I just wanted to make sure." He huffed out an annoyed breath. "I'm not good at this."

"Do you think I am?"  Kiku let his brows rise slightly in skepticism.

Alfred laughed and it sounded warmer than before. "No, but maybe a bit better at the whole thing. I keep saying the wrong words."

Kiku couldn't help but smile faintly at that, "When one uses so many it is bound to happen sometimes."

"Hey," Alfred protested. "Not everyone can be as taciturn as you."

"And I would not want you to be."

Looking around to make sure no one else was around them, Alfred leaned down to embrace Kiku from behind, burying his face in his shoulder.

Kiku startled at that but relaxed very slightly, leaning back against Alfred almost imperceptibly, "When must you be home?"

"Don't know," he said. "They don't know I'm out, yeah?"

Kiku nodded, "Perhaps by two then, to be safe.  Sometimes people are up at odd hours in my House and I would prefer not to deal with them."

"Alright," Alfred said. "That still gives us a couple hours." He stopped, taking a deep breath from where he was still holding onto the other. "I love you," he said, even though the words hurt to get out.

Kiku's eyes widened and he turned around in Alfred's embrace, blinking up at him, "Wh-what?"

"What?" Alfred asked, blushing and shoulder line defensive.

"You..."  He blinked rapidly, "Really?"

"Of-of course. Why'd I say something I don't mean?" Alfred asked. "Is... is it that surprising?"

"No, I just," Kiku paused.  "I suppose I didn't expect you to say it, is all."

"I can use my words from time to time," he said with another laugh. "A-and actually mean them."

Kiku's lips curved upward into another ghost of a smile, "Good."

Alfred tilted forward, drawn by that ghost of a smile before he pulled back. "We should," he looked around. "There's a ride over there," he said, almost pulling on Kiku's hand and barely stopping that motion too. "Come on."

Kiku carefully slipped his hands in his pockets to remove at least some of the temptation to touch Alfred, "Lead on."

Walking half a step forward, Alfred started talking about everything they passed, trying not to think about what he'd just said and hoping no one had seen even that brief embrace.


	15. You Think I'd Lie to You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, so this is to let you know that we've got a scene here that could, and frankly is, dub con. Both characters are consenting but one is very very drunk. There would still be consent if he was sober, but the concern is there and he's not entirely in his right mind.

Francis leaned against the wall, knocking on Arthur's door. "Oh come on, at least open the door so I know you didn't drink yourself to death."

There was a long moment of silence before the lock clicked, though Arthur simply returned to where he had been sitting and drinking, looking out the window.

Blinking, Francis stepped inside. "Okay," he said, tone a bit wary as he looked around the room and picked up the first empty bottle he saw. "Mon Cher, what on earth has gotten into you?"

Arthur stiffened at the endearment, considering the alcohol in his glass as he shook his head, "It doesn't matter."

"Uh-huh," he said. "Is that your second bottle of scotch or have you moved onto something else?"

"Just scotch.  I'm at least lucid enough not to mix alcohols."

"Do I want to know how full this bottle was?" Francis asked and shook his head. "What's gotten into you?"

"Memories," he muttered, frowning out the dark window before finishing off what was left in the glass and reaching for the bottle he was currently drinking to pour another one.

Francis lifted the bottle before he could get to it. "Must be some memories," he said.

Arthur growled, and made a half-hearted grab for the bottle before settling back and glaring out the window, "Doesn't really matter.  They're _just_ memories."

"Which is why you're about to give yourself alcohol poisoning over them," Francis said, arching his brows.

"Did you know Nataraja Patel is back in town?" he asked after a moment.

"Hadn't heard that yet," Francis said, having come to the English House only after the other had left it.

"Neither had I until today.  He seems to be doing well, the bastard."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Francis asked, one eyebrow going up.

"No, of course not."

Making a frustrated sound, Francis shook his head. "So you're drinking a bottle and a half of scotch because it's not a bad thing Patel is back in town and doing well?" Francis paused, remembering the few times he'd met Patel and the rumors he had heard whispered on occasion. "Were you lovers?" he asked and wished he'd at least been drinking to excuse the question.

Arthur tensed and glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, the look edging toward dangerous, "What does it matter?"

"It seems to matter a whole lot to you," Francis said, tone carefully casual.

"It was a lifetime ago," the other answered, looking toward the bottle Francis still held.

"So what?" Francis shrugged. "Stuff like that doesn't go away. What matters is that you still feel it. What'd he say to you anyway?"

"Things which are absolutely true.  It doesn't make them any easier to hear."

"Like what?" Francis frowned, stealing Arthur's glass and pouring a couple fingers of the scotch for himself.

"Hey," Arthur protested, attempting to get his glass back, but figuring it wasn't really worth it.  "I'm a lonely, bitter old man.  And I should never have stayed in this House."

"How would you have left?" Francis asked and knocked the scotch back, carefully not thinking about the first thing Arthur said.

"Years ago.  Before Matthew and Alfred arrived.  There, there was a chance then," Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of his arm chair.

"You're the Head of the House though," Francis said. "Wasn't that enough to stay for? What would you have been if you left?"

"I don't know.  Happy, maybe."  His green eyes were unfocused as he looked at the ceiling.

"He wanted you to leave with him, didn't he?" Francis asked, tone low. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I was a fool.  I was secure here, I had a route toward power and control of my own life.  And what he was asking meant losing that security.  I didn't know what would happen outside the protection of the House."

"Do you really think you would have been happy?" Francis asked, holding the glass up to the light to squint through it just so he could pretend he didn't have a reason to look at Arthur.

"I don't know.  Maybe."

"We'd likely not have met," Francis mused. "Not well anyway. But then again, you've never been in love with me the way you sound like you were... are, with him."

Arthur paused at that, blinking at the ceiling before sitting up and looking at Francis, "He was my first love, it's not something that one can recapture."

"No, it's really not," Francis said.

Arthur levered himself to his feet, swaying very slightly and resting his hand on the chair to steady himself.  Thoughts of trust and his conversations with both men swirled through his mind, "But, perhaps that's not always a bad thing.  Love like that burns hot and destructive when it breaks."

"You know, if you're bitter and lonely it's your own fault," Francis said, watching him warily.

He snorted, looking away, "You're the second person to basically tell me that today.  I certainly haven't gone seeking anything else."

"Because you're supposed to go after the things you want," Francis snapped and paused a beat as if considering what he'd just said. He dropped the glass he was holding, not caring if he broke it, and slammed forward, dragging Arthur's face around to plunge into kissing him.

Arthur stiffened at that contact, but finally melted into it.  He wasn't certain how much of that was caused by the alcohol, how much by seeing Nataraja, and how much was Francis, but he ignored the warring thoughts.  His hand came up to cup the back of Francis' head pulling him closer and turning a shade possessive as he returned the kiss.

The kiss tasted too much like scotch but Francis shoved Arthur back into the chair and dropped down to straddle his lap. Arthur's breath hitched and he pressed hungrily into the kiss, his other hand moving to grip Francis' hip.  He drew back briefly for air before capturing the other's lips demandingly once more.

"How much have you had to drink?" Francis murmured the next time he pulled back, dragging his mouth along Arthur's jaw, one hand balancing on Arthur's shoulder and the other buried in his hair.

Arthur tipped his head back, trying to recall, "More than, more than I should have."

"Oh well," Francis said under his breath, pretty sure that meant Arthur would kill him in the morning if this went any further but currently not caring.

Pushing aside any doubts or questions he had at the moment, Arthur caught Francis by the chin and pulled him into another kiss, "Did you relock the door?"

"What?" Francis asked, having been more interested in sucking on Arthur's tongue.

Arthur leaned back very slightly, "Did you lock the door?"

"No," Francis groaned.

"I would rather Matthew not walk in," Arthur murmured, even as he leaned up to kiss Francis' jawline.

"No," Francis agreed, worried senselessly that if he stopped touching Arthur it would be over.

"Would you go lock the door?" Arthur said, running his hands up Francis' sides.

Francis muttered something before standing and literally dragging Arthur up with him, pulling him by the wrists with him as he stumbled across the room toward the door.

Arthur stumbled, but managed to keep up with him.  As soon as the door was locked he slammed Francis back against the door, kissing him fiercely and pushing his hands up the other's chest.

"Do you actually want this or are you drunk and lonely?" Francis asked, fingers digging into Arthur's hips. "Because between Patel and Adnan I'm starting to think you have a type that's not me."

Arthur drew back slightly at that, "And what type is that?"

"I'm rather blond," Francis drawled, protesting that Arthur moved back at all.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he pressed against the other again, "And Jacqueline had red hair."

Francis blinked rapidly a few times. "Damn," he managed, thinking about the former Head. "I'd still rather know this isn't just because of how much you've had to drink," he said, sounding a shade wistful as he dragged his mouth across Arthur's again.

Arthur's breath caught as he finally slid his hands up under Francis' shirt, "If that's your concern you should try when I'm sober."

"Can I?" Francis asked and paused a moment before he surged forward, flipping Arthur against the door.

That earned a whine from the smaller man, "After this?  You sure as fucking hell better."

Groaning, Francis reached down to hitch Arthur's legs up around his waist, slamming their mouths back together.

o-o-o

It was past two in the morning when Alfred stumbled inside. Bracing his back on the wall, he fumbled with the laces of his combat boots, seriously considering just tumbling into bed with them on. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, finally getting the first boot off.

Matthew looked up from where he had been sitting quietly on the stairs, one of his numerous notebooks in hand, though there was barely enough light to see his writing in it, "You're in late.  Or early.  Whichever."

Swearing, Alfred fell over. "Shit, Matthew. What are you doing?"

Matthew's smile was sharp and anything but apologetic, "Waiting for you of course. If you were gone much longer I was going to see about waking people up to go look for you."

"Fuck you," Alfred said, scowling. "What time I get in is not your business."

"It is right now," Matthew answered steadily.  "You were gone for hours and for all I knew you were dead in a back alley."

"Not dead," Alfred said, spreading his arms. "So it's fine yeah?" He set to work on his other boot.

"Sure, yeah.  Where'd you go?"

"Out," Alfred said. "Just out. It's totally not your business."

"Would it be Arthur's if I went up and knocked on his door?"  It was an empty threat considering Matthew knew that Francis had disappeared into that room a while before which would mean either dealing with a very drunk Arthur who had killed the lead intelligence officer or two men who really wouldn't want to be interrupted.

"No," Alfred said, eyes narrowing. "You wouldn't get up the stairs either."

Matthew met his brother's eyes steadily, "Do you think you could stop me?"

"I'll beat you on the stairs," Alfred said, eyes narrowed dangerously. He almost never threatened his brother and he certainly never actually meant it.

"One good scream would have half the House awake," Matthew promised, but shrugged.  "Are you staying safe at least?"

"Yes," Alfred said, letting his shoulders relax slightly but something felt funny in his chest, like his heart was beating too fast and all he wanted to do was run out the door and keep going.

The younger brother watched him for a long moment before sighing, "Okay.  I wouldn't risk Arthur tonight anyway, probably."

"Why not?" Alfred asked, looking down at the buttons of his jacket as he undid them.

“Because he started drinking as soon as he got back this evening.  Francis disappeared into his room a while ago and that is not something I want to deal with," his lips curved upward slightly.

Alfred paused, halfway done with his jacket. "Do you think they're sleeping together?" he asked, wrinkling his noise because it was the expected reaction for him but his heart seemed to turn over at the thought of being able to lock a door between himself and Kiku and the rest of the world.

"Not before tonight, but considering how long Francis has been in there?"  Matthew shrugged, "It's either that or Arthur finally gutted him and just hasn't been bothered to toss the body out yet."

"Either way, I don't want to deal with it," Alfred said, shrugging out of his jacket and glaring at his brother. "Is there anything else?"

Matthew shrugged slightly, "Not that I can think of.  Uncle Cameron was smiling like the cat that got the canary, which probably means he knows why Arthur was drinking, but he wouldn't tell me."

"Then I'm going to bed," Alfred said, moving to step past Matthew.

Matthew paused, but reached out and put his hand on Alfred's shin to stop him.  He looked up from where he hadn't ever risen, his eyes concerned behind his glasses, "You really are being careful whatever it is you're doing?"

"Do you think I would be stupid about it?" Alfred asked, looking down.

"No.  I just, I just don't think you always think things through is all."

"I've thought this through," Alfred said and nearly started swearing at how much that gave away. "Believe me," he added quietly, as he'd already dug the hole. "I've thought this through."

Matthew paused for a long moment, putting that with his suspicions before speaking quietly, "And he has too?"

"Fuck," Alfred managed.

"Damn it, Alfred, please tell me I'm wrong," Matthew said, hating the fact that a pleading note crept into his tone.

"I'd have to understand your suspicion first," Alfred said, the urge to run growing again.

Matthew pulled his hand back and looked back toward the door, "Never mind.  I, I don't want you to lie to me, and I'm not sure I want to know if I'm right."

Alfred wavered, still standing by him on the stairs. "You think I'd lie to you?" he asked, sounding actually hurt.

"I," Matthew sighed, his shoulders slumping, "No, but I don't know if I want you to tell me the truth about this either."

"You're the one that asked," Alfred muttered under his breath.

"Just take the out I'm giving you for answering, Alfred," Matthew snapped.

"Fine," he said, stomping up the next step before he realized how loud that was and walking more carefully. Matthew listened to him leave, closing his notebook and carefully setting it next to him before he let his head fall forward into his hands.

o-o-o

Roderich leaned against his cane as he knocked on Ludwig's office door early the morning after the Head had gone out with Feliciano.  Frowning when there was no response, he got the door open and paused when he saw the office was empty.  He glanced at the clock in confusion.  Ludwig was usually at his desk long before then.  Closing up the office again he made his way carefully through the halls, pausing when he saw Vash who arched an eyebrow at him.  The intelligence officer hesitated and then shook his head, he didn't want to have the guard with him if it was nothing.  Stopping at Ludwig's bedroom he rapped sharply on the door with the handle of his cane—the sound ringing louder than his knuckles would have.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, Ludwig blinked over at the clock as he tried to wake up and place the sound. "Oh son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, scrambling out of bed and pulling on a shirt as he opened the door a crack.

Roderich arched an eyebrow at him, "Are you feeling well?"

"Yes," he said and paused. "I mean, no. I mean, I didn't get to sleep until late last night."

"Can you work or are you staying in there all day as well?"

Ludwig blinked once, unsure if that was a reprimand for oversleeping. "I can work." he said, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Let me get a shower."

Roderich nodded very slightly and turned away, "I'll be at your office with the latest news."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Ludwig said, closing the door and leaning his forehead against it. Abrupt waking or not, he found himself smiling at the thought of seeing Feliciano the night before, and the sneaked and not so sneaked kisses all over the carnival. At one point Feliciano had found a photo booth and he now had a strip of photos of them to covet.

Roderich made his way back down to the kitchen to find Vash and Lili there.  Vash glanced up from where he was cleaning one of his guns, "I guess you were looking for Ludwig?"

"He wasn't in his office.  Apparently he overslept.  He said he didn't get to sleep until late," Roderich shook his head slightly, surprised that the younger man had overslept regardless.

Lili was going over a list of data points that Roderich had asked her to map and spoke quietly, "Well, he left awfully late last night, I would guess that he got in much later."  Silence greeted that comment and she glanced up to find both of the men staring at her and she shrank back ever so slightly, "What?"

Her brother's voice was calm as he spoke, "Left late?"

She nodded, "He was going somewhere.  I don't know where."

Roderich glanced at Vash before asking, "About what time was that?"

"I don't know.  The House had gone to bed, mostly.  But it was late.  I was getting myself something to drink and saw him leave."

"Did he have anyone with him?"  Vash asked, reassembling his gun quickly as she shook her head.  Roderich frowned, meeting Vash's eyes as the blond rose.

"It would appear we need to have a conversation with Ludwig."

Vash nodded slightly before glancing at his sister and making sure to keep his tone even, "If you see him do that again, let me know, alright?"

Lili blinked at him a couple of times, but nodded as Vash and Roderich left to wait for Ludwig in his office.

By the time they reached the door, Ludwig was behind the desk, his hair smoothed back and looking particularly awake. He glanced up when they entered and blinked at their expressions.

Roderich set his computer down by the chair he usually took, but remained standing as Vash closed the door and leaned against it.  The intelligence officer glanced at Vash who nodded once to indicate he was going to let Roderich start this.  Turning back to Ludwig, the brunet arched a sharp eyebrow, "Where did you go last night _without a guard_?"

Ludwig paused, wondering if there was anyone he could claim to have taken. "There was a carnival in town," he said finally.

"So a crowded area.  You left alone.  Did you walk there?"  Roderich knew where the carnival was being held and how far it was—it wasn't too far from the House into neutral territory.

"Yes," Ludwig said. Feliciano had dropped him off on the way out though.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Vash finally snapped from where he was leaning with his arms crossed over his chest.

Ludwig shrugged slightly. "No."

"Really?"  Roderich asked.  "Because from where we're standing it sure as hell looks like it."

"It was rather foolish," Ludwig admitted.

"Foolish?"  Roderich's eyebrows rose sharply at that.

Vash spoke evenly, "You went out alone.  After dark.  _Walked_ alone.  Through the same territory where our last Head was killed.  And ended up in a crowded area." 

Roderich nodded, "Which is as good a place as any for an assassin to attack and disappear."

"There was someone else with me," Ludwig said finally.

They exchanged a glance at that, "Who?"

Ludwig was about to protest it was not their business but even on his best days he could not muster Otho's cold demeanor enough to pull that off. "Does that matter so very much?"

Roderich looked to Vash who blinked twice as he put together everything he'd seen during meets and spoke again, "You went with the originally preferred heir of the Roman House, didn't you?"

Letting out a breath, Ludwig nodded. "Yes, I went with Feliciano Vargas."

Roderich pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, "Well, I suppose that could be worse.  But for the love of God, Ludwig you can't just go haring off in the middle of the night without letting anyone know!"

"I know, I'm sorry," he said, actually meaning it. "I just," he started and let out a breath. "Last night just happened."

"Let us know the next time something just happens," Roderich insisted.  "And for god's sake take a _car_."

"I didn't walk back," Ludwig said as if that would help anything.

Running a hand over his face, Roderich sighed, "Alright, that's something at least. Ludwig, we need to keep you alive and we can't do that if we don't know what's going on."

"We are seeing each other," Ludwig said quietly.

Roderich stilled at that, looking toward Vash who nodded very slightly.  The intelligence officer considered the reasons why he hadn't heard about it before this but finally shook his head, "Well, I....I'm glad to hear that.  Just, Ludwig, you need to take precautions.  For both your sakes."

"We will," he said and nodded. "Last night was fine and we'll both be more careful in the future. It was... spur of the moment."

"I don't think I've ever known you to do something spur of the moment before," Roderich said, finally sitting down.  Vash determined that he had said his piece and left quietly.

"I think I've used up my dramatic gestures for the year," Ludwig said dryly.

"You're in a relationship with an Italian, Ludwig," Roderich reminded.  "You may surprise yourself yet."

That got a tiny smile out of him. "Like last night you mean."

"Yes, like last night," Roderich smiled briefly.  "This might be very good for you, actually."

Ludwig's brows shot up. "That's not what I expected you to say. And you mean so long as I don't go out alone again."

"I mean so long as you don't go out alone again," Roderich agreed.  "The Roman House is having trouble still, and we have the difficulty of the Russians, which they've joined us in as well.  It's, frankly, best if neither of you were to go out alone, but I've no place to say anything about him."

"Would you, if you thought you had the place?" Ludwig asked.

"Say anything about him going out alone?"  Roderich considered, "I probably wouldn't have before this, but yes."

"I meant," Ludwig paused. "Would you have anything to say about... us?"

"Oh," Roderich leaned back in his chair, considering for a long moment, "Perhaps.  But I haven't seen you around each other and I don't actually know very much about him.  As I said, I think he might be good for you."

"I hope he is," Ludwig said and leaned back. "I guess only time will tell."

The other man nodded, withdrawing his notebook and opening his computer.  "You care a good deal for him already, don't you?"

"Yes," Ludwig admitted quietly. "He... more than anything has taken my mind off things."

"Good.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to bring it back onto said things again, though."

"I know," Ludwig said. "Did you manage to reach the Russians at all yesterday?"

"I did, finally.  Through some sort of miracle."  He paused, "And I was told in no uncertain terms that there was nothing we could offer that would induce Braginski to return Gilbert to us."

"Nothing?" Ludwig asked in surprise. "There must have been some reason to take him in the first place, and if it wasn't to ransom him... then what the _fuck_ was it for?"

Roderich looked over his notes from the conversation of the previous day and hesitated, "Have you read much Greek mythology, Ludwig?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" he asked, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were almost white.

He kept his gaze focused on his writing, "Do you recall the one about Persephone?"

Ludwig nodded and then stopped, allowing that to process before blanching. "You don't honestly think," he protested weakly.

"I am dearly hoping not, but I have the transcription of my conversation with the House here."  He opened the document on his computer and leaned forward to set the laptop on the desk, "I can't think of any other reason for Braginski to have kept Gilbert alive this long with no wish for ransom."

"There has to be something else," Ludwig said, reading over the transcript and not coming up with any other ideas.

"We can hope.  Maybe it will become clearer later.  At least he's still alive, and I'm assuming still treated well," Roderich offered.

Ludwig nodded and paused at the knock at the door. Roderich blinked at the door as Lili stuck her head in, "Ludwig?  A Mr. Patel is here to see you?"

Looking at Roderich in surprise, Ludwig nodded. "Please see him in."

Lili nodded, ducking back out as Roderich took his computer back, frowning, "The man is a goddamn ghost, I didn't realize he was back."

"Has he been gone long?" Ludwig asked, looking over.

"Long enough for rumors of my death to spread," Nataraja said, stepping inside the room and pulling off his gloves to shake Ludwig's hand.

"Around these parts that could mean a week, though," Roderich responded, his expression smoothing out.

"Not in my case," Nataraja said with a smile in Roderich's direction.

Roderich's lips curled upward very slightly at that, "No, I think it took nearly two months before the first of those rumors started about you."

Clicking his tongue, Nataraja shook his head. "How sad. However, since arriving back, I've heard a bit of your predicament."

"With the Russians?" Ludwig asked and Nataraja nodded.

"Yes, with the Russians. Ivan has never been terribly good at expressing himself or for that matter, in achieving what he wants."

"Do you happen to know what that is?" Roderich asked, looking back to his notes briefly.

"Not well," Nataraja shrugged. "But I stopped by yesterday and Gilbert was there." Suddenly he had Ludwig's compete attention.

Roderich looked up at that, setting his black book and computer aside, "Is he well?"

"He was still using a crutch," Nataraja said. "Apparently Ivan managed to break his ribs twice which implies that they had time to heal before the second breaking."

Ludwig hissed out a breath.

Roderich glanced at Ludwig, "There would have been time between when he was taken and the phone call."

"Yes," he agreed, clearly unhappy at the thought and Nataraja arched his brows up.

The intelligence officer glanced at Nataraja, "Gilbert managed to get a hold of Ivan's phone to call and let Ludwig know he was still breathing not too long after he was taken."

Nataraja whistled. "And of course, only Gilbert would be stupid enough to call you on Ivan's personal phone. I could see that ending with his ribs broken again, especially if Ivan thought he passed you any information."

Roderich nodded, "Exactly.  Not that he had any information at that point, but nevertheless."

"He seemed to pretty well have run of at least some of the house," Nataraja said with a shrug. "I mean, Winter was with him but he was moving around the hallways and allowed in Ivan's office."

That garnered a long blink from Roderich before he glanced at Ludwig again, biting back any comments about pomegranate seeds.

"Ivan's refused ransom," Ludwig said, carefully not thinking about it. "Do you have _any_ idea why Gilbert is there?"

Nataraja considered, thinking about what he'd told Ivan about proper seduction. "I don't know," he said instead.

Roderich sighed, "Fantastic."

"Ivan doesn't usually do things for the reasons most people consider acceptable or expect," Nataraja warned them.

The intelligence officer had the urge to ask if Nataraja thought that a Persephone scenario was likely, but wasn't certain he wanted the answer.

"Yes?" Nataraja asked, looking over at him as the other moved like he wanted to say something but wasn't quite coming out with it.

Roderich glanced toward Ludwig, but finally asked regardless, "By reasons most wouldn't expect, you wouldn't mean.  That is," he paused and murmured under his breath in Turkish before finishing, "What are the chances this looks like the abduction of Persephone?"

Nataraja blinked rapidly before laughing. "Frankly? Decently high." Ludwig's eyes widened in shock and alarm.

"You can't.. you can't be serious."

Roderich raked a hand through his hair and seriously considered a retreat, but decided that wasn't fair to Ludwig, "Wonderful..."

Nataraja shook his head slightly. "I can't tell you much, simply what I saw. If you need someone to try and talk to Ivan I can see what is to be done, but at the moment he's not looking like he's budging at all."

"If you would be willing to try, it would probably be more than we can do," Roderich admitted.

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

"Thank you," Ludwig said quietly. "Thank you so much for coming to us."

Roderich nodded his agreement, "It is good to see you again."

"Of course it is," Nataraja said, inclining his head before tipping his hat at the pair of them and breezing back through the door.

The intelligence officer seriously considered following him out and ending up at the Mediterranean House but decided that was probably an excessive response at that hour of the morning.

"Is something on your mind?" Ludwig asked, looking over at him once the door was closed.

"Beyond how desperately I was hoping that I was wrong?  No."

"It was just his impression," Ludwig muttered.

Roderich nodded ever so slightly, "Yes, of course.  Well, I suppose we ought to see to the other business of the House, yet."

Ludwig nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Alright," he said, shuffling the reports sitting in front of him.

o-o-o

Waking to a pounding headache was the second worst way to do so, in Arthur's mind.  He opened his eyes and closed them immediately against the bright sunlight pouring in through the window he'd never drawn the curtains on the night before.  "Fuck," he pulled the pillow out from under his head to put over his face before his mind caught up with everything else.  He was in bed, naked and there was someone next to him.  _Francis_ , the one part of his mind not overtaken by throbbing pain helpfully contributed.  He tensed, swearing again, more muffled this time.

Having snapped awake but not moved when Arthur started swearing, Francis lifted his head finally. "Did you at least sleep well?" he asked, voice pitched low.

Arthur groaned, "Yes.  Yes I did.  It's the bloody waking up part that makes me want to go die under a rock.  Can you close the goddamn curtains?"

Rising and not bothering to put on any clothing, Francis pulled the curtains shut and glanced back at the bed.

Once the curtains were closed, Arthur removed the pillow, still with a god-awful headache, but the light wasn't irritating it anymore.  He levered himself up against the headboard, the blankets pooling at his waist as he considered the other man, "Are you coming back to bed?"

"Am I allowed to?" Francis asked, tone wary.

Arthur blinked at him for a long moment, "Yes."

Considering him, Francis slunk across the room before sliding his knees back onto the bed, bracing a hand near Arthur's thighs.

Arthur looked him over, gaze focusing on where his hand was for a moment, "You're acting like I'm going to cut you to ribbons for even thinking about kissing me, much less what we did last night."

"Sortta expecting you to," Francis said, even though he leaned down and pulled the blanket back and kissed the side of Arthur's knee.

Arthur startled at that, but moved his hand down to comb through Francis' hair, "You really don't know me at all then, do you?"

"I don't know," Francis said, tilting his head back. "I know what you'd do for your nephews and what you'd do for the House. I'm not sure about me."

"If I was going to skin you for this I would have done it last night.  I tend more toward those actions when drunk," Arthur replied, though there was a part of his mind that was kind enough to remind him that he was in fact _less_ inclined toward violence after a few drinks.

"Yes, but you were lonely and drunk," Francis said, smoothing his mouth higher up Arthur's leg. "This morning you have your full mind."

The muscles there quivered as Arthur tried to keep still, letting his head fall back against the headboard, "I've always been less lonely when you're around."  He closed his eyes, mentally cursing himself.

"Have you?" Francis murmured, sliding his hands up Arthur's leg in front of his mouth. "Do you, rather?"

Arthur's breath stuttered and he nodded, "Yes.  I, yes."

"I'd never have expected it," Francis said, looking up from where his mouth was still against Arthur's skin.

Arthur drew himself together enough to look down at Francis again, though his pupils were blown wide, "Really?"

"No," he said, dragging his teeth along the skin before kissing it. "We fought, we bickered, you threatened me with your cane. But god have I wanted to kiss you for years."

Arthur drew a sharp breath at that, "Well, why the hell didn't you?"

"Would you honestly have let me?" Francis asked.

"I think it depends on when."  He paused for a long moment, "You might have gotten away with it in my office a couple of weeks ago.  I can't speak to further back than that."

"I'd pushed my luck enough then," Francis said. "At least I thought I had."

"Always so cautious about this one thing, Francis," Arthur murmured, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not cautious about most things," Francis laughed. "Maybe you should feel special." He paused, running his hands along Arthur's leg again, his good one. "Perhaps I should give your leg a massage though."

Arthur's lips curled upward at that, "I might just have to let you do that."

Francis actually groaned, shifting up to kiss Arthur's chest.  Arthur hummed before catching Francis by the chin and drawing him up so he could actually kiss him. Sliding easily into Arthur's lap, Francis wrapped his arm around his neck and pressed into the kiss. "You don't taste like scotch anymore."

Arthur snorted at that, "No, now I taste like morning breath.  And feel like I've got a drum line going at it behind my eyes."

"I can get you your toothbrush," Francis teased. "But I can't do much for the hangover."

That earned a wry chuckle, "No, this is fine."  He spared a brief glance for the door, "We should probably emerge at some point."

"Later," Francis said, tilting his head to smooth his mouth along Arthur's jaw. "You still have that hangover you should sleep off."

Arthur tipped his head back, "I don't think I've slept off a hangover in a very long time.  I usually end up in my office as soon as I'm awake regardless."

"You should try it," Francis said, one hand trailing his fingers down Arthur's throat.

"Mm, I'm beginning to see the merits of it," he admitted, one hand combing through Francis' hair while the other traced down the other man's side to his hipbone.

"I hope to convince you of several things," Francis purred, pressing closer.

Arthur's lips curled into a smirk, "I can be rather stubborn, it could take a while."

"What a coincidence, I hoped to have a while," Francis said with a smirk.


	16. What Else Could I Possibly Want?

Tino stuck his head into the living room, eyes lighting when he finally saw Matthias.  He entered and sat down across from the taller man, "Hello."

"Hello," Matthias said, holding a book in a way to put it in serious danger of having the spine crack. "Can I do you for anything?"

"We need to talk because you have some serious misconceptions," Tino said frankly.

Glancing over from where he was sprawled over the couch, Matthias arched his brows. "I... what?"

Tino nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "You seem to think that Berwald and I are sleeping together."

"Because for all intents and purposes you are," Matthias said, stonily turning his gaze back to his book.

"Matthias, I've never even kissed Berwald.  Okay, actually that's not technically true.  There was once when I was eighteen and illegally drunk, but it doesn't count."

Matthias still didn't look over. "So it's platonic. Your point is?"

"My point is I know how you look at him," Tino answered, frowning very slightly.

"With annoyance?" Matthias offered, eyes trained on the book he hated anyway.

"If that's what we're calling desire now," Tino replied bluntly.  "You're not exactly subtle."

Shifting his shoulders back into the couch, Matthias scowled. "What? I don't... I don't desire him."

"If that's what you tell yourself.  Why ask him about love on that walk we took?" came the question, Tino finally leaning back in his chair.

"Because I like seeing if I can goad him," Matthias said.

"He talks more around you than he does around anyone else."

"Because I piss him off," Matthias scoffed, still not looking over.

"People who piss him off get ignored, or glared at," Tino argued.  "He likes you, Matthias."

That made Matthias laugh and he shook his head. "Sure, if you say so," he said, clearly not believing a word of it. "Look, we work together, and he's good at what he does. That's all that matters."

Tino let out an exasperated noise, "Right, of course it is.  Because you don't want anything more than that."

Matthias slammed the book shut. "What else would I possibly want?"

The smaller man startled at the abrupt noise, but shrugged, "Him looking at you the same way?  Maybe giving you some indication of whether it's safe to actually want him."

"Why are you so obsessed with the thought I want your boyfriend?" Matthias snapped.

"We're not dating!" Tino snapped right back. "We never have been!"

Matthias gave him a long look. "Then you've done everything but. Besides, it doesn't matter to me."

"We decided after the second time some creep tried to feel me up at a bar that it was better if people thought I was taken," Tino replied stiffly.  "And bullshit it doesn't matter to you.  If you don't believe me that there is nothing going on between me and Berwald go ask him yourself."

"I don't care," Matthias ground out. "Besides he'd never answer me."

"Oh yes he would.  You're just about the only person he _would_ answer," Tino insisted.

Rubbing his hands over his temples, Matthias gave Tino a baleful look. "Why are you still pressing this?"

Tino looked at him for a long moment, "Because I want to see Berwald happy.  Frankly I'd like to see you happy too."

"And you think that either of us would be happy with the other?" Matthias asked, arching a brow and trying to make himself laugh off how ridiculous that sounded.

"How many different ways do I have to say yes to that question before you believe it?" Tino asked in exasperation, getting to his feet.  "I still say you should ask him."

"Nothing you're said so far has explicitly anything to do with happiness," Matthias replied, expression closed off.

"Fine.  Yes, I think you would.  Both of you," Tino replied.  "If you disagree, then fine, but if you think he could make you happy don't automatically assume the reverse isn't true."

Matthias laughed and it didn't sound amused. "Isn't it though?"

"What?  No.  You..."  Tino closed his mouth and shook his head before speaking again, "No.  You could make him very happy."

"Not really his type," Matthias said, springing to his feet. "Anything else?"

"Since you seem to be the expert, what is his type?" Tino asked, watching Matthias.

"You're joking, right?" Matthias said. He couldn't tell if Tino was right and he was being stubbornly blind or if Tino just didn't understand that Berwald clearly was in love and adoration of him.

Tino offered him a long look before shrugging, "Yes, yes I am entirely joking.  Excuse me."  He headed for the door.

"Yeah okay," Matthias said, watching him leave and scowling at the book he was still holding.

Tino went looking for Berwald but paused when he came across Sigurd in one of the side rooms instead.  He considered for a moment before entering and sitting down on the floor nearby, "Does everyone think that Berwald and I are sleeping together?"

"Yes," he said, not even looking up from the book case he was putting together.

Tino slid down to stretch out and stare at the ceiling, "Why?"

"Because Berwald looks at you like he's fucking you and you hang off him all the time," Sigurd said with a shrug. "If it's an act, it's a convincing one."

"I've known him since I was ten and have always done that.  I've kissed him _once_ for god's sake.  And I was very drunk."  He paused, considering the other part of what Sigurd said, "What do you mean he looks at me like that?"

Sigurd shrugged. "I assumed that's how he looked at you I guess. It's very intent. So I assumed that's what it meant."

Tino glanced at him, "Berwald tends to focus on whoever he's with, or communicating with.  He always has."

"Still, with everything else it was easy enough to put together and think we got the right answer," Sigurd shrugged. "Why'd you only kiss him once?"

"You remember the whole 'known him since I was ten' thing?  I was drunk, he might have had a little more to drink than usual too; we decided it was awkward."

"And never tried again?" he huffed out a breath.

"Right.  The following year I kept getting felt up at bars and it was just easier to tell the creeps I was taken by someone who looked like he could rip their arms off without thinking about it.  He agreed to it and," he shrugged, "that's where we are. Except now everyone in the House thinks we're dating, fucking, whatever, too."

"Neither of you have really ever acted like you weren't," Sigurd said and considered the bookcase with a critical eye. "Speaking of which your non-boyfriend probably could have done this better."

"Did you ask him to?" Tino checked, looking at the bookcase, "The third shelf is really crooked."

"No, I thought it might be a nice gesture," he said. "To make it myself I mean." He hit the bottom of the third shelf as if that would make it straighter.

Tino sat up, "Well, beyond that shelf it seems to be alright.  And once there are books on it it won't be as noticeable."

Sigurd hummed under his breath, pulling the shelf out and seeing if he could place what he had done wrong.

Sighing, Tino thought about getting up, "I should probably go warn Berwald that Matthias might possibly be going to talk to him.  Though I doubt the warning's going to be needed because god damn if they both don't ignore everything that's so clear."

Sigurd glanced at him without moving his head. "Really. I think what you consider clear is pretty murky to everyone else."

"Berwald has actual expressions around Matthias and will actually engage in conversation and explain what he means by 'yes' 'no' and 'good'." Tino said, with a shrug.  "He won't do that for anyone else that I've seen."

Sigurd seemed to consider. "Alright," he admitted. "I suppose I never looked too closely at that."

"And please tell me you're aware of Matthias' reactions at least?" Tino all but pleaded as he finally got to his feet.

"Specifically?" Sigurd asked, not wanting to take a chance with Tino's pleading face that he was wrong.

"He's jealous.  And that's not even bothering with the fact that he actually outright asked Berwald what he thought about the idea of love the other day."

Sigurd blinked once. "That... how did that work out, if you're so sure they are in love or lust or whatever?"

"About as well as I expected it to.  Berwald said that it happened and Matthias turned it back to my relationship with Berwald and the fact that apparently he hasn't a romantic bone in his body." Tino shook his head, looking toward the door and then back at Sigurd's bookcase, "Which I doubt, but it's possible.  The fact that he rarely shows anything that most might consider romantic is yet another reason in a decent list of why I couldn't actually date him."

"Matthias isn't much of a romantic," Sigurd said with a tiny shrug. "He loves but it's not romantic."

"Then if they ever manage to figure out what's going on they'll be fine," Tino said.  He paused before heading toward the door, "I'm going to go talk to Berwald and then I'm done meddling.  They can figure it out from here."

"If you say so," Sigurd murmured, looking at the bookshelf and crossing his arms.

Tino found Berwald staring at his own empty bookshelf, though there were books in piles laying around him, "We have a problem.  Or you have a problem, but I think saying 'we' is safe too."

The larger man glanced up, "What is it?"

"Everyone thinks we're actually in a relationship."

"Good."  He turned back to the books he was re-shelving, frowning almost imperceptibly at them.

"Good?"  Tino echoed, "How is this good?"

"It was th' plan," Berwald replied simply.

Tino folded himself down next to the other and reached for a stack of books, only to have his hand knocked away, "The plan was to keep assholes from giving me trouble or coming on to me, remember?"

"'T works."

"Too well.  Berwald, you're not listening to me."

"M'listening," he slid a pile of books nearer and began returning them to the shelf in alphabetical order by author and chronological order within the author's names.

"No, you're not.  Not everyone in the House was supposed to think this.  Matthias thinks it," Tino said, shifting around so he could lean his back against Berwald's.

"So?  M'tthias is an idiot."

"That is completely not what you think of him."

"Don' say things I don' mean."

Tino groaned, "Oh yes you do.  You do that by not saying everything.  Matthias is an idiot in _some cases_.  If he was actually an idiot you wouldn't follow him."

Berwald drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "Doesn' matter."

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

"Because I told him to ask you about us and I hope he does.  And I hope you tell him the truth."

"You like him that much?"

That startled a laugh out of Tino, "For me?  God no."

"Then why?"

"Because I like him for you when you aren't fighting.  You talk more around him and smile more too.  I like that."

"But we—"

Tino cut him off, something sharp entering his tone, "We are friends and basically brothers.  We always have been and will keep being so, but we've both been hiding behind the excuse we gave ourselves.  It's cowardice."

Berwald shifted his shoulders and Tino moved, allowing the taller man to turn around and look at him, "Cowardice?"  His already deep voice dropped lower.

"Yes.  It's one thing for us to use this to keep assholes away and another to use it to keep everyone away."

"I don't want Matthias," Berwald protested.

Tino looked skeptical at that, but sighed and nodded, "Fine, but if someone you do want comes along and thinks we're together?  You don't have to stop being overprotective but we just don't act like a couple."

The other man blinked and then shrugged, turning back to the books, "Okay."

"Now, be nice if Matthias asks you," Tino got to his feet, patting Berwald's shoulder before leaving him to his work.

Standing in the doorway, Matthias tilted his head to one side and left before Tino could reach the door.

Tino's eyes widened when he saw Matthias and he swore, causing Berwald to look up, but he shook his head and left without explaining.

o-o-o

Sitting at his desk, reports and various things that needed his attention spread out around him, Antonio could not focus on a single piece of paper. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall against the desk and pushed some of the papers around as if that would achieve anything.

Lovino paused outside Antonio's office door, fiddling with the ring on the first finger of his right hand.  He had taken it off for a couple of days, but didn't want to face Antonio without it.  As upset as he still was with the other, it seemed too final to do that.  He drew a steadying breath and knocked on the door.  Antonio had been avoiding him—not that he'd been seeking Antonio out either but that was how he responded to things not how Antonio tended to.

Jerking his head off the desk, Antonio at least tried to make it look like he'd been working. "Come in," he called, head bent over the papers.

Hesitating for the briefest of moments longer, Lovino pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him and leaning against it.

When he glanced up, Antonio didn't move for a long moment. "Yes?" he asked softly.

Lovino realized suddenly that he had no idea what he actually intended to say, "You, you've been avoiding me."

"Yes," Antonio admitted, voice still quiet.

"Why?"

Capping the pen he was writing with, Antonio folded his hands over the desk. "Because I was angry," he said.

The younger man bit back his first response to that and nodded very slightly, hands behind his back and resting on the doorknob, "So you avoided me because you're angry?"

"I needed time to think," Antonio said and then, more quietly. "I told myself I'd never give you an order and look how well that went."

His gaze skittering away at that, Lovino drew a deep breath, "It's within your rights."

"But I shouldn't have done it," Antonio said. "Not for that."

"I wouldn't have let you see them otherwise," Lovino admitted, though he was sure they were both aware of that.

"It would be one thing to give you an order in a fire fight, or about the house," Antonio said. "But it was anger at you and our personal problems." He paused, taking a breath before switching tracks. "You and those boys that kissed you were idiots, you realize that right?"

The other's hazel gaze snapped to him at that, "What?"

"To think that playing around with you would get them any less killed then Feliciano," Antonio said. "Favorite grandson or not if I hadn't killed them first your grandfather would have. He would have killed me if he was alive to see this, and I was his favorite of his captains."

Lovino's jaw tensed at that, "Feliciano's been talking again, hasn't he?"

"It's not hard to figure out," Antonio said and paused, anger flashing back to the surface. "And if you think that I want to sleep with him you're an idiot."

"It's not an uncommon desire," Lovino said, his hand tightening on the door handle.

"If I wanted to sleep with your brother, I would be," Antonio said simply. "I could have taken him to bed the first day I became Head. It would have been poetic, it would have solidified my position. The leader marrying the heir almost, how lovely in a neat bow. I never _wanted_ that, or him."

Lovino's entire body tensed at that, but he had enough sense not to say the first thing to come to his mind.  Lover or not, threatening the Head was a stupid move.  "I don't get why," he finally said.  "He's a better choice."

"You are such an idiot," Antonio muttered, finally rising and moving around the desk. "If you think the only difference between you is that you can use a gun you are _such_ an idiot."

The smaller man leaned further against the door, "No, there are several differences, most of them in his favor.  He's certainly got the better personality."

Closing his eyes, Antonio sighed before he stepped forward quickly enough to brace his hands on the door above Lovino's shoulders. "Don't you believe I love you yet?"

Lovino pressed back as far as he could, which wasn't very far considering how solid the door behind him was, "I...I do."  Or he thought he did, but then something like the latest fiasco arose and he wasn't sure he did.

"Then why do you think I want Feliciano?" Antonio asked.

"He'd be better for you," Lovino answered quietly.

"I don't want better," Antonio said, not adding that it was far too late even if he had. "I want you."

"Even though I'm reckless and stupid and am probably going to get myself killed no matter what we do to prevent it?"

That last one hit too close to home and Antonio spoke before he could stop it," I'm the Head of a House, how old do you expect me to become?"

Lovino flinched at that, focusing on Antonio's chest rather than his face, "Not very."

Bringing his hands down to cup Lovino's face, Antonio urged him to look up. "Your grandfather lived a long time. I want to survive as long as I can for you but god, please do me the favor of doing the same."

The younger man tensed at the touch, but managed to nod, "You, you have my word on that."

"It scared me," Antonio said. "That you would go out alone, already injured however minorly and get yourself beaten."

"I'm sorry.  It, it wasn't supposed to end like that.  It won't happen again."

"Please," Antonio said softly, smoothing Lovino's hair back. "Please don't do that again."

"I won't," he promised, trying to ignore Antonio's hand in his hair.  "I should, I should let you get back to work."

"I wasn't really working," Antonio sighed. "I'm sorry I avoided you."

"We both needed the time to cool down," Lovino said in reply, half-wishing the door opened outward rather than inward.

Antonio sighed. "Will you come in or would you rather leave?"

"What happens if I come in?"

"I don't know," he said. "Any preferences?"

He paused for a long moment, hearing the comment about his usefulness from the trio he'd fought again, "I'm...I'm not ready for us again, Antonio.  Not yet."

Letting his forehead fall against Lovino's for a moment, Antonio took a deep breath before pulling back. "Alright," he said, though his neutral expression was barely holding on.

Lovino looked like it pained him to have said that, "I...I should go."

"I've missed you," Antonio said, sliding his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't touch anymore. "Which is a bit pathetic since it's only been a few days and we still technically live together. But... when you want to come back."

"I'll," he paused and nodded very slightly, "I'll let you know."  He opened the door and paused for a moment longer, looking at Antonio before slipping from the office.

"Fuck," Antonio muttered once the door was shut, covering his eyes with one hand. His paperwork felt even further from being done.

o-o-o

Toris considered the hangers he carried, not certain how well this would go over.  He paused outside of Gilbert's door before knocking twice and stepping inside.

"Yeah?" Gilbert asked, looking over from where he was perched on the wood chair next to the small table in the room, a puzzle in front of him because he still couldn't stand to sit still and read.

The brunet held up the suits he carried and a bag which held some ties and a couple of spare dress shirts, "New clothes."

"That's," Gilbert said, happiness spreading across his face before he got a better look at them. "Um."

"Not to your taste?"  Toris asked, laying them across the bed.

"Not what I usually wear," Gilbert admitted, tilting his head to consider them.

"Well, I hope you can adjust to them then."

"I'll find a way," Gilbert sighed, wishing that boots had at least been included. "So. Clothes then."

Toris nodded, "Good quality, high end fabrics, good tailor.  We can adjust them as needed."

"I'm assuming this wasn't on your own imperative," Gilbert said, trying not to cringe at the thought of a tailor.

Toris' eyes widened slightly at that, "No, no this would have been far overstepping my place had it been."

"I figured," Gilbert said, leaning over and pulling one of the ties out of the bag, running his fingers along the silk. "Any idea what brought this all on?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Toris said, glancing at the ties and the suits.  "We can see about some changes in color, if you would like.  That should be doable at least."

"Naw," Gilbert said. "The colors at least look good. It's just... suits. I prefer jeans."

Toris offered him a faint, wry smile at that, "Well, you could see about asking if you really desperately want them.  But personally?  I would take the suits and deal with it."

Gilbert glanced at him sideways, already intending to do that. "Why?" he asked, curious anyway.

"Why?"  Toris blinked at him for a long moment, "Because Ivan had these bought for you.  And they cost a pretty penny."

"Alright," he said, still running his fingers over one of the ties. "Why suits then?"

"My instructions were to get more of what you were wearing," Toris answered, smoothing out one of the jackets.

"Ah," Gilbert said, propping his chin on the back of the chair. "I should never have taken that challenge."

"Challenge?"

"To prove I can dress myself," Gilbert said with a laugh. "Roderich didn't believe I could do it without someone else picking out my own clothes." His expression fell to think of Roderich and he continued to stare at the tie.

Toris managed a faint smile at that, but he glanced at Gilbert and his expression settled back to its normal neutral state, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he asked idly.

"That this all happened."

"You didn't do it," Gilbert said, dropping the tie back down and his eyes were dangerously close to annoyance. "And I don't need pity. I know I've been pretty damn pitiful but," he cut himself off with a frustrated breath. "Thank you," he said instead, even though it sounded like it pained him.

Toris looked at him for a long moment, considering that before speaking again, "You're welcome.  It's not pity though.  I just...I hate seeing someone else caught in this web and cut off."

"I miss home," he admitted quietly. "Did you ever have a home you were taken away from?"

"Home," he paused, moving one of the suits and sitting down.  "Home isn't a place for me.  It's a person."

"Feliks," Gilbert said without having to think about it. "Right?"

That garnered a humorless smile and a nod, "Right."

"Do you miss him?" Gilbert asked, remembering the time Feliks had tried to claw his eyes out after throwing a glass of beer in his face. Of course, Gilbert had started the entire fiasco.

Toris ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "All the time.  But at the same time I'm so glad he's not here."

"Even if it means you don't see him?" Gilbert asked. He'd possibly even accept Ludwig being under Ivan's strange temperament if it meant he could just see him. But as soon as he thought it, he stopped believing himself.

There was the slightest of hesitations before Toris nodded, "Even then.  I, I don't want him back here.  He, he managed to get out and to have him back here...I can't.  I can't wish that."

Gilbert almost asked if Toris would rather be gone then and barely managed not to. "He did seem to have a rough time of it."

The other nodded, "And I'm glad he got out.  I wouldn't be able to, so I'm glad he could."

Gilbert's eyes narrowed and he decided not to say what he wanted to. "That's terribly noble of you."

Toris snorted, "Or fatalistic.  I'm pretty certain I'd be dead before I got out of the territory if I tried."

"But you still miss him."

"Always," Toris nodded.

"Then I'm sorry," Gilbert said, chin still propped on the back of the chair as he considered the suits. "It's not very awesome to miss people."

Toris shook his head, "No, it's not."  He rose, "I should probably see to the rest of my work for today."

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded. "Have fun or whatever it is you do."

"Fun is probably not the right word," Toris replied wryly.  He glanced at Gilbert, pausing just before he left, "You might at least try them on."

"Yeah," he agreed with a sigh. "I will."

o-o-o

“Do you like the new clothes?” Ivan asked, looking up when Gilbert entered the room, using only one crutch now. For a second, Ivan’s smile disappeared as he looked at Gilbert, who was wearing the blue and gold tie loose around his neck and hadn’t bothered putting on the jacket, before the smile was back.

“What was that for?” Gilbert muttered, moving over to the couch.

Ivan just laughed. “They look good on you,” he said. “Do you like them?”

Looking to the side, Gilbert shifted his shoulders. “Yeah, they’re alright,” he said, though he was unbearably glad to be back in real clothing. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure about the suits Toris had presented him with.

“I told them to get clothing as similar to what you’d been wearing,” Ivan beamed and Gilbert let out a breath, remembering that night as if it had been a life time ago. Roderich had refused to believe he could dress himself, and he remembered turning in a circle and grinning at Roderich’s surprise. “Though I was surprised,” Ivan said after a moment. “It didn’t seem like what I’d seen you wear in the past.”

“You paid attention?” Gilbert got out before he could stop it. “I mean, I was dressed up.”

Something flickered in Ivan’s eyes. “Do you want other clothing?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“No, it’s fine,” Gilbert said, a shade quickly, even though it felt odd to be so well dressed. He could tell by the cut of the pants and the feel of the fabric that Toris was right and Ivan had spent money on the clothes he was wearing and it just made him more confused. “They’re fine.”

“I’m glad,” Ivan said and dropped his eyes back to the paperwork .

Making a sound low in his throat, Gilbert wished he hadn’t when Ivan’s eyes snapped back up. “Why am I here?” he asked, the question he’d rarely dared to ask before. “I’m almost healed now, you’ve given me clothes but nothing else. Surely Ludwig has gotten into contact with you, for a ransom—”

“He has,” Ivan said quietly. “I told him there was nothing I wanted from him.”

“What?” Gilbert asked, clambering back up to his feet. “What do you mean there’s nothing you want from him? Why else would I be here and alive? What are you risking all out gang warfare for? If you just let me go they won’t have any reason to come after you and your House—”

“With or without you people have always found reasons to come after me,” Ivan said. “I still killed your grandfather if nothing else.”

Scoffing, Gilbert waved a hand. “Whatever. If you let me go as a gesture of good will or a ransom or—or anything then Ludwig would not attack you and we could… we had a non-aggression pact once, we wouldn’t break it just let me—”

“Do you want to go that badly?” Ivan asked, voice low and Gilbert froze, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” he said finally and wished he hadn’t when Ivan rose to his feet. “I want to see my brother again,” he said, speaking quickly. “Roderich. I want to know that I have a purpose, I want to go outside, I want to understand why I’m even here.”

For a long moment there was no movement in the room as they stared at each other, Gilbert’s chest moving too fast as he tried to breathe and not be frightened of the way Ivan was staring at him. “Do you like it here?” Ivan asked finally.

“I don’t know,” Gilbert managed. “Should I?” he asked desperately. “I’m being kept here as a prisoner and I don’t feel like developing Stockholm syndrome. I like the décor well enough, I like Toris, I like the plant he gave me, but I don’t know. I don’t understand you.”

Ivan hadn’t smiled for a while and he took a step forward, making Gilbert’s hands shake and he hated the rush of panic he felt. “Ivan,” he said and hated even more that it was obvious he was panicking. “Ivan, wait, I didn’t mean—”

The only warning he got in the end was Ivan’s hands wrapping around his hips and in the next breath, before he could finish getting out Ivan’s name again, Ivan was kissing him. Ivan’s lips were dry and the kiss was fumbled and closed mouth but it made desire wrap around the panic fluttering in Gilbert’s chest and he knew less of what to do than Ivan seemed to. He leaned his entire weight against Ivan’s chest, feeling his heartbeat through his clothing and Gilbert couldn’t breathe.

He jerked back to catch a breath and for a moment neither of them moved, Gilbert’s hands still held up in the air as he had no idea what to do with them. “Oh,” Gilbert managed and Ivan looked almost afraid before he leaned down again, nudging their mouths together and this time Gilbert tried to respond, letting his mouth open slightly and he heard the groan rumble up from Ivan’s chest. Except in the next moment their noses jammed together and they kept going anyway.

There had been countless times he’d heard Francis wax and wane poetic about how to properly kiss someone but it felt like all of that had melted out of Gilbert’s mind and they were both flying blind. He finally settled one hand on Ivan’s shoulder, the other at the back of his head, shocked at how soft Ivan’s blond hair was compared to his own.

He was glad Ivan’s hands were supporting his waist because otherwise he was worried his knees were about to give out.

Finally Ivan pulled away and dropping his hands, stepping back and Gilbert fell back onto the couch, staring up wide eyed. He barely managed not to laugh hysterically. “Is that,” he started and swallowed. “Is that why?”

Ivan looked at him a long moment, one hand twisted up in the end of his scarf before he turned suddenly, slamming the door on his way out. Unsure if he was still feeling panic or desire, Gilbert looked around the room, seeing the vase of sunflowers on the side table and buried his face in his hands. He remembered all the times Ivan had so carefully arranged the same flowers in his tiny room, the feel of the fabric of his new clothes and a thousand other things that made no sense for a prisoner.

“Fuck,” he managed weakly and tried not to bring a hand up to his mouth.

The door opened a moment later and Natalia entered, looking around.  She frowned and focused on Gilbert, “Where is Ivan?”

Scrambling to his feet, Gilbert almost tripped onto his face as his leg and ribs protested. “Um,” he managed and tried to calm himself enough to form a more intelligent reply. “I don’t know. He just left. That,” he gestured at the door. “That way I think.”

One of her eyebrows rose, “You do not seem to be doing well.”

“Me?” he asked and laughed too loudly, heart fluttering oddly in his chest because he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ivan leaned down or the taste of him. “I’m awesome, why wouldn’t I be totally awesome?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” she said, looking him over for a long moment.  “What have you done?”

“I haven’t done a thing,” Gilbert protested, which was half true. Technically Ivan had done the kissing.

“I don’t believe you,” her tone remained steady as she took a step toward him.

He took several back as quickly as he could without tripping, remembering the knives she usually carried. “What? Me? What could I have possibly done? You know, I think I might, I might be coming down with, with a fever or something. I should go lie down.”

“You don’t look sick,” she replied, frowning at him.  “Why did Ivan leave?”

Laughing again, Gilbert’s hysteria was entirely genuine. “God, how would I know? Like that man makes sense to anyone in the whole fucking world.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took another step toward him, “That is a very nice suit.”

“What?” Gilbert managed, taking another step back and running into the dark wood table. Stumbling he caught himself and moved to go around the table. “It’s just a suit. I… I suppose I needed to get clothing at some point.”

“It looks like Ivan’s tailor’s work,” she followed him, stopping on the other side of the table.

“So?” Gilbert asked. “I can hardly turn down whatever clothes he wants to give me for whatever reason goes through his head. It doesn’t, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” her voice went dangerously cold.

“Nothing I can figure out,” he said instead, as a last ditch effort. “You’d, you’d have to take it up with him yea? I don’t know anything.”

Natalia’s hand strayed dangerously close to where she kept one of her knives concealed, and she narrowed her eyes at him, “Not a single thing?”

He swallowed, wishing she didn’t disturb him so much. “Not a single thing,” he protested. “You’ll have to bring it up with him.”

She drew back finally at that, “I think I might just.”

“Yeah, well, take it up with him,” he said, waving a hand and trying to inch around toward the door.

Natalia nodded once and turned on her heel, heading for the door and exiting swiftly. Once the door was closed, Gilbert sagged down slightly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Apparently staying in the same room was a bad idea and he beat a hasty retreat to his own room to brood there.

Toris paused on his way down one of the halls, blinking when he saw Ivan ahead of him looking distracted.  He had been nearly frantic since his call from Feliks and only hoped that this would work. He stepped up next to the Head, “Sir?”

Startling slightly, Ivan looked over and down. “Yes?” he asked, tone pitched a shade too high.

“I’m, I’m very sorry to bother you, Sir. I just, I was wondering if I might have the, the rest of the day.  My work is done for the day.”

“Alright,” Ivan said, still looking distracted before he seemed to realize what Toris had asked him. “Why?”

“I,” he hesitated, “I haven’t, haven’t seen Feliks in a long while.  I just wanted to see him, if, if that is alright?”

Ivan paused for a moment, remembering what had happened after the last time Toris had visited Feliks. “You would not happen to be feeding him information, would you?” he asked, smiling.

“No, no of course not, Sir.  I will mention nothing of the House whatsoever.  I just, I just want to see him,” Toris murmured.

Seeming to consider as they walked Ivan finally shrugged. “If you will then. I expect you back tonight so that you are ready for work in the morning.”

“Of course.  Thank you, Sir,” Toris offered a quick bow and slipped away before Ivan could change his mind.

Ivan watched him go for a long moment before shaking his head and locking himself in his own room.

o-o-o

“Arthur?”

The Head of the English House barely glanced up from where he was scribbling notes on his map and jotting down thoughts on a notepad next to it, “Yes, Matthew?”

The younger man was seated in front of the desk, going over an old notebook of Arthur’s that contained the formulas for several poisons he had developed over the years, “Why don’t you get on with the Asian House?”

“I poisoned Yao about two years before I came to power.”

“He seems to still be breathing,” Matthew’s brows rose very slightly.

“It was a close thing at the time,” Arthur’s lips curled into a smug smile.

“Alright, so I can see why he wouldn’t like you, but what about you?  I mean, you have a permanent limp from Antonio, but why the Asians?”

The Head shrugged, marking boundary lines in pencil, “I’ve just never liked Yao.  No particular reason.”

“Why did you poison him?”

“Non-specific orders.”

Matthew looked skeptical, “You weren’t much given to following non-specific orders.”

“You, Matthew, see and know far more than is good for anyone around you. It was, and still is, in my best interest not to have Yao in power.”

“But you were only a poisoner at the time.  You weren’t even named heir then.”

Arthur shrugged, picking up a red pencil and tracing over the territory between the English and Asian Houses as he considered the weak points in both Houses’ defenses, “Technically I never was named heir.  But I had my eye on this position and I didn’t much care for the man here.  The House’s opinion was mixed about the Asian House and so it was a way to get in with both sides, poison him to appease one group but make sure that there would be time that he might get help to calm the other.”

“Playing with lives in anticipation of overthrowing the man in charge?”

Arthur didn’t move except to raise his eyes from the map to Matthew’s almost disinterested expression, “Something like that.  It would have been more use to me to just kill Richardson, but I had no way of knowing who would be in power then.  I never did like him, and if Yao had died I would have been able to blame his orders easily.”

“You never much liked any of the Heads.”

“Except Abbot.  She was a good leader, and a sly strategist.  She knew a gambit play when she saw one and there was hell to pay if she caught you in it.”

Matthew returned his gaze to the notebook in his hands, “You usually did alright with the Heads at the start of their rule, from what I saw and heard.”

“Well, they always did something to threaten my position.”

“They’re the Heads, supposedly that’s their right.  It wasn’t about that, though was it?” He glanced up, his gaze intent, “Fitzwilliam died shortly after he started controlling how Alfred and I were trained, and Richardson met his about a year after Liam showed up and he tried to get control of Liam and Alfred and I all at once.  I think half the House heard your shouting match with him over that.”

Arthur glanced at him again, “My actions have occasionally been motivated by the thought of keeping you three intact in this mess.”

“Is that why you offered Jacqueline the heirship plan?”  He turned a page, not looking at his uncle.

The older man froze, “How did you—?”

“Like you said, I know too much for the good of people around me.  It was a good strategy to have her name Alfred as her actual heir while keeping Richardson concealed.  And frankly it gave you a reason to keep her alive which I’m sure was a concern after Uncle Cameron showed up and you got him position as a guard.”

Arthur blinked at him, “Does Alfred—?”

“Do you think he would still be talking to you?”

Arthur snorted, “No, I don’t suppose he would.  He’s too—”

“Like you,” Matthew finished for him.

That earned a long look, “That was not what I was going to say.”

“No, but it’s true.  You two just don’t like to admit it.  You’re both stubborn, loyal to those you think are important, disinclined to deal with actual emotions, and you both hate being used or lied to.  He just doesn’t tend to lie to or manipulate those around him like you do,” Matthew said with a shrug, still examining the paralytic compounds in the book.

“I was going to say—”

“That he’s like our father.  Which, in a way, is true if you take ‘father’ to mean the man who raised us.”

Arthur looked up at Matthew again, “You never ask about your parents.  You never have.”

“I always figured you didn’t want to talk about them, at least by the time I was inclined to ask.  You never really grieved for them after all.”

“You never asked about that either.”

Matthew finally closed the book to look at his uncle, “Were you happy when you found out about it?”

Arthur blinked, taken aback at the question, “No.”

“Were you sad?”

“No, certainly not that.  But happy isn’t the correct word either.”

“What were you then?”

Weighing that question for a long moment, Arthur turned back to his work, “Indifferent.”

Matthew tipped his head back and laughed at that, the sound jarring and far from amused. “Oh no you weren’t.  You’re never indifferent when it comes to family.”

“There was no love lost between Ioan and myself, and I had never met your mother.  I am entirely capable of indifference,” Arthur replied, sounding defensive.

Matthew still looked amused as he shook his head, “No, I’ve heard you talk enough about my father, usually in your fights with Uncle Cameron, to know that you felt a lot about him—anger and resentment mostly.  You feel and act the same around Uncle Cameron, but I think you’d grieve if he suddenly ended up dead, as much as you might like to deny it. You claimed to hate him, but you still got him a position here.”

“You wanted him here.”

“You still got him a position, put yourself and frankly Alfred and I on the line for it.”

Arthur refused to look up at that, “Alright then, if it wasn’t indifference what was it?”

Matthew tipped back in the chair, thinking for a long moment, “Disappointment?”

That earned a long blink and Arthur looked up again, leaning against the desk, “Perhaps, but not over their death.  I hadn’t seen Ioan since he left me with our grandparents when I was six.  I didn’t know him.  And I never met your mother.”

“You were disappointed about the reminder,” Matthew offered.

“Yes.  I had spent the previous four years breaking away from all memory that I even had a family, much less one that I would ever see again, and suddenly I had two nephews on my doorstep.” He paused and murmured, “I resented it.  I resented that even after death, Ioan was still controlling some part of my life.”  Looking at Matthew again he spoke clearly, “But I have not regretted it.  You know that I would give my life for you and Alfred, and that—”

“You’ve come close a couple of times,” Matthew nodded very slightly, reaching up to remove his glasses and clean them.  “I know you don’t regret it, as much trouble as we’ve caused you over the years.  You’ve trained us well, and protected us even in some cases that I doubt I even know about.”

Arthur considered that for a long moment before asking, “Do you ever resent me?”

“What?  Why would I?”

“I’ve groomed and trained you into a very specific position.  I’ve done the same to your brother, but I’m not certain he’s entirely aware of it.”

Matthew considered his uncle for a long moment before shaking his head, “No.  I’m good at what I do. As you can see from talking now.  People don’t always notice me, it’s an asset for information and for things like poisonings.  Even my glasses contribute to that image of disappearing, though I know you used to go on about them being a visible sign of a weakness.”

Something relaxed in Arthur’s shoulders as he turned back to his work, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Why haven’t you told Alfred you’re training him as your heir?  And frankly you should be taking him to meets with you rather than me, to really train him.”

“Heirs have a tendency to become targets, either from exterior or interior factions.” Arthur answered, “It’s one of the reasons that most Heads of the English House die without an officially declared heir.  Jacqueline was an exception, though her true heir was concealed. It’s a protection to the House in some ways.”

“It can also cause division in the event of the Head’s death.”

“But usually the person who comes out at the top is the one with the strongest allies and that is a good thing to have when coming to power,” Arthur reminded.

“Alfred has me.  And Liam I suppose,” Matthew smiled wryly.

“Both you and Liam are the two sides of the triangle that will be needed to support Alfred if and when he comes to power.  I haven’t talked to Liam about this, but I’ve been moving him into the position he needs to be as well,” Arthur nodded.

“You might see about talking to him.  I’m pretty sure he’s convinced you’re going to kill him for sneezing.”

That earned a wry smile, “If I haven’t killed his father yet, Liam is entirely safe.”

“What positions are you seeing for him and I?”

“Liam, though he seems to forget to use it sometimes, has a quick mind.  He’ll make a good guard and, if Alfred can ever be convinced to listen to anyone other than himself, a good advisor.  He also has a tendency toward at least a bit more caution in certain situations than either you or your brother do. As for you? You’ve said it yourself, you excel at information gathering and the business that needs to be carried out in shadows.  You’re also one of the only people I’ve known your brother to listen to with even the remotest regularity.  Between you and Liam, Alfred will have two lines of defense, one more covert than the other, and two strong advisors.  And the two of you get along, which is a great boon to any House.”

Matthew considered all of that, his tone going dangerously calm, “What do you mean Liam is more cautious than I am?”

“I mean, that you know you’re good at what you do and because of that you tend to take risks within it.  It’s something I’ve been known to do as well, and it is reckless and dangerous.”  He paused, “Liam, occasionally, shows a bit more restraint in his actions.  Perhaps that’s just around me, but it could be channeled into other areas just as easily.”

Watching Arthur for a long moment, Matthew nodded stiffly and rose, “Well, you seem to have it all planned out.  I’ve got a couple of compounds I want to test, see the results for myself.  Good day, Arthur.”

“Good day, Matthew,” he turned his attention back to his work as the door closed behind the younger man with more force than was usual.


	17. Silly to Play Tourist in Your Own City

Toris glanced over his shoulder, even with permission from Ivan he still didn’t feel safe in the open.  He knocked quickly on the door, hoping that it would open quickly.  Seconds later, the door opened, Feliks standing there with his hair pulled back sloppily and a cup of tea. “Toris,” he said, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, I wanted to call you but I couldn’t figure out how—”

Eyes widening, Toris acted without thinking for once, stepped forward, and kissed Feliks.  He pulled back quickly, already starting to panic about it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I—”

Staring at him in shock, Feliks just blinked, having not been given a chance to react. “Come in,” he said instead, stepping back and trying to put the tea cup down on a table without actually looking away from Toris.

Pausing for a long moment, Toris nodded, stepping inside and closing the door.  He didn’t take his gaze from Feliks as he moved and pulled one of the curtains partially closed out of habit.

“Do you really think Ivan keeps cameras outside the window or something?” Feliks asked, leaning against the door because it was closest to him.

“I never know what might be out there,” Toris answered quietly.  “I would rather not risk it.”

“You mean like kissing me in the hallway?” Feliks asked and his eyes widened at how causally he’d said those words. “Where, where anyone could have seen?”

Toris drew back a bit further, “Like, like that.  I wasn’t thinking.  I shouldn’t have done that, I was just…For all I knew you were dead or at least horribly injured and I was, was relieved.”

“You could try it again where others can’t see,” Feliks said, eyes wide as he watched the other.

He fell very still at that, eying Feliks uncertainly, “You, you mean that?”

“Oh my god Toris,” Feliks said, pressing further back against the door anyway. “Are you serious?”

“I,” Toris swallowed hard, “yes?  I don’t know what, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I meant, like, were you serious about asking me that sort of question?” Feliks said. “Are you an idiot?”

He flinched, “I, no, yes, I don’t—” Toris drew a sharp breath, “What sort of question is that, for the love of god?  What do you expect me to say?  I want to, but I…”

“But what?” Feliks asked. “Damnit Toris, stop talking or thinking and just do something.”

Toris paused for another moment, feeling his breathing speed up, “I… Feliks, I can’t.  I can’t shut off my brain.  I can’t stop thinking.  I can’t stop worrying about what might happen.”

Mouth twisting, Feliks finally took several steps forward. “What would happen? What could happen that scares you so much?”

He didn’t move forward or back, “I don’t, I don’t know.  And that, that’s more frightening than knowing.”

Letting out another breath, Feliks shook his head. “Are you so frightened by life that you refuse to do anything?” he asked. “Because god, Toris, have you let yourself enjoy anything in years?”

“There are so many things that can go wrong, Feliks,” Toris murmured, watching him before finally stepping forward.  “I don’t, I don’t want anything more to go wrong with us.”

“What could go wrong with us?” Feliks asked softly, watching him.

“I,” he paused, “I’m still trapped, Feliks.  I can’t, I can’t get out and we’re still at Ivan’s whim.”

Taking another deep breath, Feliks looked over at the side. “You don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “But beyond that, beyond tomorrow, you’re standing here right now. Maybe it’s still on Ivan’s whim but…”

Toris drew a steadying breath, “I’m here now.”  Hesitating again he crossed the handful of steps between them and reached up to touch Feliks’ hair, “And you are as well, thank whatever is looking out for us.”

“Whatever is looking out for us has done a horribly shitty job so far,” Feliks muttered.

“We’re both still alive.  Considering our lives I’d say that’s pretty good.”

“But apart and broken,” Feliks murmured.

Toris shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t win this.  He finally leaned in and kissed Feliks again hesitantly, not entirely certain what he was doing. Seeming to consider the kiss for a moment, Feliks tilted his head back, twining his arms around Toris’ waist. The brunet startled slightly at that, his hands combing up into Feliks’ hair before he drew back and rested their foreheads together, “We’re not broken, not entirely.  We, we can’t be.”

“Rusted then,” Feliks managed. “Dented. Do that again,” he commanded.

Blinking, Toris leaned in and kissed him again less hesitantly this time, but still unsure of exactly what he was doing. Taking in a deep breath though his nose, Feliks took control of the kiss as he dragged a hand up Toris’ back to tangle in his hair and he tried to coax Toris’ mouth open. Toris tensed, but parted his lips, one hand moving to Feliks’ side as he leaned very slightly into the kiss.

Drawing back to breathe again, Feliks dragged his hands down Toris’ back and then back up. “How long?”

Toris arched at the touch, shifting his shoulders enough to direct Feliks’ hands a bit, “How long?  I, I don’t, I don’t know exactly.”

“And I take it you don’t care to guess?” Feliks asked, following the hinted at directions easily.

“Years,” the brunet murmured, managing to keep Feliks’ fingers away from where he was pretty certain his scars could be felt even through his clothing.

Eyebrows drawing together as he considered that, Feliks nodded. “Like, lots of years?”

Toris nodded very slightly, “Yes, a lot of them.”

“We’re not that old,” Feliks said, grinning up at him and dragging his fingertips along Toris’ hipbones. “So like, it must have been a long time.”

“It has been,” Toris managed to smile, though something uncertain was settling in his expression again.  “What, what about you?”

“Please tell me you’re joking again,” Feliks said quietly.

“Feliks, please, just answer me.”

He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I’ve been more in love with you since before I figured out what that word meant. The other stuff came later, but not that much later.”

“You…” Toris felt his breath catch and he captured Feliks’ lips again, pulling the other man closer.

“If you’re surprised I’m hitting you in the face,” Feliks said against his mouth.

“And you say I talk too much,” Toris muttered in response.

“Have I ever said you talked too much?” Feliks asked in surprise.

Toris nodded very slightly, “Something along those lines came up earlier.”

“Oh,” Feliks laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Compared to other people you don’t talk too much. Your ratio of talking to action is too heavy on the talking side.” He leaned forward, kissing Toris lightly again, hands still wrapped around his back.

Toris returned the kiss, half of his attention on where exactly Feliks’ hands were in relation to the worst of his scars.  One of his hands rested lightly on the blond’s waist, the other cupping his cheek. Tilting his body into the kiss, Felik’s raised his hands to Toris’ shoulders. Toris tensed at that and shifted his shoulders away from the touch.  He pulled back from the kiss very slightly.

“What is it?” Feliks frowned. “Toris, is something wrong?”

“No. No, I’m fine, Feliks.”  He paused for a brief moment before leaning in for another hesitant kiss.

Feliks returned the kiss and drew back. “Are you certain?”

Toris nodded, watching the other, “Quite certain.  There’s nothing wrong.”

“Good,” Feliks said and darted his hands down Toris’ back, exactly where Toris had been trying to guide him away from. “What…” he started to say in surprise.

Toris took an abrupt step back, “It’s nothing, Feliks.” He nearly flinched when he realized that his actions put a lie to his words.

“That didn’t feel like nothing,” Feliks said. “So take off your shirt then.”

His eyes widened and he took another step back, “What?  No.”

“If that was nothing, take off your shirt,” Feliks said, lunging forward and wrapping his hands at the bottom of Toris’ shirt.

Toris startled back, his hands moving to grab Feliks’ wrists, “Don’t!”

“Then you can’t tell me it was nothing,” Feliks said, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Toris. “So what is it?”

“I’m fine.  Feliks, please.  I’m _fine_ ,” Toris insisted, starting to draw back again.

“I’ll rip this shirt apart, Toris, and then you can explain to Ivan why you’re coming back shirtless,” Feliks growled.

Toris leaned away from him, “Feliks, please.  Don’t do this.”  He paused, “Let, let go and, and I’ll do it alright?”

Scowling, Feliks stepped back and nodded. “Alright. Fine. But if you don’t, I will totally rip that shirt to pieces.” He paused. “And probably, like, lend you one of mine but the point stands.”

The brunet hesitated, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he carefully undid the buttons on his shirt and shrugged out of it.  He had a few scars on his chest but nothing severe and he seemed unwilling to turn around, “Feliks, please.”

“Shut up,” Feliks said but instead of asking him to turn he stalked around to get a look at Toris’ back. For a long moment he didn’t move. “Did Ivan do this?”

Toris closed his eyes, knowing what the other was seeing.  His back was a crisscross of scars and his right shoulder was a knot of scar tissue from a serious burn, “It’s all healed.”

“That’s not the point,” Feliks protested, reaching one hand out to gently touch the first scar, following it down to where the others were. “Toris that is not the point.”

Shying away from the touch, Toris tensed further, “It doesn’t matter, Feliks.  It happened, that’s all.”

“It does matter,” he said, pulling Toris around to meet his eyes. “It matters. Because if this happened to you there it could happen again. And again. And who knows what could happen? Next time he could kill you. We could leave. You know we could leave.”

“Feliks, Feliks I can’t.”  Toris murmured, “If, if he could do this to me, he could do it to Eduard.  Or, or Raivis.”

“So you’d basically rather put yourself on that pyre instead of the possibility of someone else. Toris, what about me? What about if you’re hurt again and I could have saved you but you wouldn’t allow me? I don’t care what could happen to them, I care what’s happened to you.”

“Feliks,” Toris shook his head, “I can’t.  We don’t, we don’t even know if the protection would be solid enough, strong enough.  And if Ivan got his hands on us after that…Feliks we wouldn’t survive it.”

“But in the meantime we could actually have lives,” Feliks said, resting their foreheads together.

“I…” He drew a steadying breath, “I’m sorry, I-I can’t.”

“Goddamnit,” Feliks managed, voice sounding oddly watery. “Toris, you can’t live your entire life for other people.”

Toris reached up to gently brush a hand along the other’s cheek, “Feliks, I don’t know how to live it otherwise.”

“You could try it for yourself, or you could,” he swallowed hard. “You could try it for me?”

“I…” he paused, drawing another deep breath.  “Where would I start?”

Feliks shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. But…” he leaned up again, sealing their mouths together rather than try to formulate the next thought. Toris startled slightly, but leaned into the kiss, tangling his fingers in Feliks’ hair. “Can I just kiss you today?” Feliks asked. “And talk about everything later?”

“I’m alright with,” Toris paused, his mind piecing things together.  “You’ve done this before.”

“What?” Feliks asked, drawing back. “Done what before?”

“You’re very good at kissing, at distracting with it.  At knowing where I didn’t want your hands—at least for a while.”

“So?” Feliks asked, expression becoming wary.

“I don’t know,” Toris watched him carefully.  “I just, _why_ or rather how?”

Shifting back slightly, Feliks drew his hands back, folding them into his pockets. “Does that matter?” he asked. “You were gone with Ivan for a very long time, early on.”

Toris flinched at that, pulling his shirt back on, “What do you mean by that?”

“I didn’t mean,” Feliks started. “Just that you left and were gone. So why not kiss other boys?”

He looked hurt by that, but buried the expression quickly, “Of course.  Why not?”

“Toris,” Feliks said quietly, clearly uncomfortable. “Toris, I just missed you was all. I certainly never,” he stopped shifting. “I didn’t do it to make you jealous. Alright? I’d have rather it always been you but it never was.” He shifted again, looking away and raking a hand through his blond hair.

Toris paused but stepped forward, reaching for Feliks again, “I, I believe you.  I’m sorry, it just wasn’t what I was expecting.”

Eyes still not meeting his, Feliks shifted back slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Feliks, shh,” Toris’ brow creased.  “You’ve, you’ve no need to be sorry. It’s alright.  I, I understand.”

Still not meeting his eyes, Feliks nodded slightly. “Alright. If you say so.”

“Feliks?” Toris reached out to touch his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, leaning against Toris. “It’s nothing, okay?”

Wrapping his arms loosely around the shorter man, Toris spoke quietly, “Then why won’t you meet my eyes?”

“It’s like, totally stupid,” Feliks said. “It’s nothing, really. Just a stupid reaction. You know I don’t talk well with strangers so I thought kissing them would work better. I said it was totally stupid, didn’t I?”

“You did, but it makes a bit of sense, I suppose. I don’t, I don’t blame you.  It’s alright, Feliks,” Toris murmured, running a gentle hand over Feliks’ hair.

“As I said it’s stupid,” Feliks said, tilting slightly forward. “How long can you stay?”

“I have to be back this evening.  I have to be up and around early tomorrow morning.” He glanced toward a clock, “So a couple of more hours.”

“Is there anything you’d like to do?” Feliks asked. “I can try making tea again.”

“Tea, tea would be good,” Toris answered quietly. “I’d like to stay in today I think.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Feliks breathed out and smiled. “Alright, we can stay in.” He carefully made sure not to sway his hips as he moved over to the kitchen.

Toris watched him go, pausing to consider Feliks’ plant before following him to the kitchen, “I mean, unless you wanted to go out.”

“Where could we go?” Feliks asked with a laugh, carefully making sure his hands weren’t shaking as he put water into the kettle. “I don’t mind being out but it’s stressful. It’s just sometimes better than looking at the same walls.”

“I don’t really know, I was just offering,” he hesitated before moving over and putting his hands gently on Feliks’ shoulders.

Startling, Feliks turned to glance over at him. “What’re you—?”

“You’re acting almost as nervous as I do,” Toris said, voice soft.

“So? Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me,” Feliks said.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Toris, you’re here, why wouldn’t it be?” Feliks asked, looking back over at him. “That’s rare. I’d rather not waste that sort of time.”

“That doesn’t mean everything’s alright.  You’re jumpy, nervous, you’re, you’re not even moving quite like you usually do.”

Feliks’ mouth twitched, clearly wishing he could protest. “I’m just nervous,” he said finally. “It shouldn’t be a surprise, really. Considering how long I’ve thought about kissing you and didn’t manage it.”

“I, I suppose that’s true.”  He leaned his forehead against the space between Feliks’ shoulder blades, “I miss you, so much.”

Feliks shifted, not quite turning around but shifting his eyes back. “I miss you too,” he said faintly. “Like, more than I can bear most days. I sometimes think I should never have left because it put me so far away.”

“No.  God, don’t ever think that.  Please, Feliks I couldn’t bear to know you were still trapped there too.”

Swallowing, Feliks turned, wrapping his arms around Toris and holding on. “But I still miss you.”

Toris returned the embrace, holding him close, “I know. I miss you so much it hurts sometimes. And I wish it wasn’t so difficult for us.  I hate being away from you as much as I have to be.”

“But you’re still not going to leave either,” Feliks said quietly.

“I can’t, Feliks.  There’s too much risk of Ivan coming after us.  I, I can’t risk losing you to that.  I’m sorry.”

“I’m still trying to figure out how being apart is so much better!” Feliks snapped and bit his lip to calm down again. “Alright, alright.”

“We’re _alive_ ,” Toris repeated, nodding. “I’ll, I’ll think further about it, alright?”

“Alive and miserable,” Feliks said. “So would you’d rather like a long life hurting and alone or a possibly shorter one with a lot more?”

“Feliks.  Don’t push, please.  I said I’ll think on it.”

“Oh for the love of,” Feliks said and moved back again. “Don’t push? Like, what else have I ever done? I push people,” he said, poking a finger at Toris’ chest. “I push you. Usually you need it.”

Toris startled at that, “Feliks, that’s not what, that’s not what I meant.  I mean that I need to think this through.  I can’t just up and leave right now.”

Looking away, Feliks sighed softly. “I know. The point is that I’d rather you think this through with complete understanding of my position.”

“I do understand.  And, and it’s a position that, that makes sense to me.”  He bit his lip, “I want, I want to be able to.  I wish we could reverse time and, never mind.  It’s no use wishing that, is it?”

“Not really,” Feliks agreed. “Time won’t really go back.” He’d never turned the stove on to boil the water. “But you could try kissing me again and ignore all that.”

Toris paused and then his lips quirked upward.  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Feliks’ lips, arm slipping around his waist and pulling him closer.

o-o-o

Hands behind his head, Alfred glanced down at Kiku as they walked. “It’s sort of silly to play tourist in your own city, you know.”

Kiku paused, raising his camera to take a few pictures of the building they were walking past, “It’s the only place I can do it, though.  It’s not like I’m ever going to leave it.”

For a moment, Alfred didn’t reply. “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” he asked, stretching his arms up and riding up his tee-shirt before dropping them back down. “Tour other places, I mean.”

The smaller man glanced at him before trying another angle for the photographs and nodding, “I really would.  I have made lists and mapped routes and,” he stopped and sighed quietly, “and I’m never going to do any of them.”

“Well, maybe you will,” Alfred offered. “Or you could… I don’t know, write a tour book for this city. I don’t think we have one. I mean, it’s not the same as seeing new places but,” he shrugged. “It could be something?”

Kiku offered him a ghost of a smile, “A tour book might not be a bad idea.  Of course, there is the problem of making it clear where tourists should never go.  And, well, I cannot map certain areas, or find items of interest.  It’s not as though I can move freely through the whole city like an actual tourist could in theory.”

Alfred pursed his mouth. “Except that’s only in theory. There’s a lot of places they should just avoid. I mean, most of the tourist points of interest are in the neutral areas anyway.”

“The tourist points here are wonderful, but with the gang war who knows how much of the neutral zone is going to remain neutral,” he paused to snap a few more pictures and consider the street at large.

Looking around the streets where people were moving along that had nothing to do with gang warfare, Alfred sighed. “There’s stories you know. Of what it was like before the latest truce. I’d rather it not happen again, you know?”

“Yes, I have heard them too,” Kiku murmured.  “Even alliances broke eventually during the last war.  What few rules we expect didn’t hold.  It’s one thing to go after a Head, another to go after an heir, for instance.”

“You’d think heirs would be the easiest targets,” Alfred said. “Usually they’re a bit weaker than the current Heads.”

“Usually.  There aren’t guards directly assigned to them, but you don’t see heirs as the first targets.  It’s better to take out the Head and aim for the heir when they finally come to power while there’s a fluctuation in the control and before they can establish a line of succession.”

"But that's the thing," Alfred said. "You'd think the heirs would be the first targets for exactly that reason. The fact they aren't is due to... customs rather than sense."

"And that's exactly what I'm saying as well," Kiku insisted, turning his attention to some of the carvings in the stonework of one of the older buildings.  "Those customs break down when war starts."

Alfred let out a breath, glancing down at him. "Which would make you a target. Kiku, I don't want to see this city break down into a war like that."

"You say that as though you would be any less of one," Kiku responded, sparing him a glance.  "I don't want to see that sort of war either, but it looks as though it will happen."

The line of Alfred's shoulders tensed. "Yeah, but it's never been official like. Sometimes I don't think Arthur would ever name me his heir anyway."

"Why not?" Kiku asked, shifting the subject away from the impending war.

"He calls me stupid and impulsive and fuck, I probably am," Alfred shrugged. "But the English House doesn't have dynasties like the Russians or the Germans do. I don't think one Head has been related to the prior in decades. At least since we arrived."

"Who would he name if not you?"

"Fuck if I know," Alfred said. "Just not me. Not the fights we get into."

"Perhaps you're right."

Alfred glanced down again at Kiku. "It's not like you. I mean, you've always known what Yao was getting you into it's just... I'm not sure about anything."

"If Arthur isn't careful he might end up with a leaderless House at this rate, and then where would all his work be?" Kiku reasoned.

"There's still Liam," Alfred pointed out with a laugh.

Kiku shook his head, offering a faint smile at that, "Didn't you say he's terrified of Arthur though?"

"Which is why I think Arthur likes him so much," Alfred laughed again, considering the old church Kiku had stopped in front of you. "You know, sometimes I don't understand why we have these in this city."

"I hear there are some people who find them reassuring amidst all the violence," Kiku answered, snapping a few pictures of the facade.

"Yeah, but not for us," Alfred said. "I mean, it's hypocritical to ask help from a being whose rules you break every day."

Kiku shrugged, "Perhaps so. They're monuments to a different time, like most of the neutral zone, I would say."

"Is that why you're so fascinated by them?" Alfred asked, looking up and down the street. "The old buildings I mean."

The other young man paused to consider that before nodding, "I suppose that's it, yes."

"I don't know," Alfred said, tilting his head back. "Never much cared about the past or history or any of that. I just want to know what's happening now and why."

"Well, the why of that is in the history, now isn't it?"

"Sometimes," he agreed. "But I don't know, people aren't that good at applying history and sortta pointing out the stuff that really matters."

"I guess that's true. I don't know, I'm just curious about what went on before all of this.  I sometimes wonder if there isn't a way to reach a comparable level of peace again."

"I think it would depend on how much people wanted certain things from each other," Alfred said. "I mean, if the Heads could agree on peace... but that's different than memorizing a string of British monarchs or something like they ask you to do in school."

Kiku shook his head, smiling faintly again, "The memorization of monarchs certainly isn't useful in our lives."

"I wonder if history would ever remember us," Alfred said. "Or if we'll just get lost in the shuffle of gangsters coming and going."

"I don't know.  I'm not sure it really matters."

"Maybe," Alfred said, reaching down to brush his fingers across the back of Kiku's hand.

Kiku startled slightly at that, lowering his camera to shoot a quick glance around them at that touch.

Alfred curled his hand back, folding his arms over his chest. "I was jealous, the other night," he murmured.

"Of Ludwig and Feliciano?" Kiku glanced at him before taking another couple of pictures, really wishing he could photograph Alfred but knowing better than to risk that.

"Yeah," Alfred said, tilting his head and the light from behind the church highlighted his hair. "They were holding hands and kissing in every shadow they walked themselves in to. I just..."

"Wish that could be us," Kiku finished, lowering his camera rather than give into temptation.

"Yeah," Alfred said, looking over.

"Maybe eventually," Kiku murmured.

"I'd rather it be sooner than later," he said, voice dropping further.

Kiku swallowed at that and nodded, "I wish that as well."

Alfred looked around the street and pulled Kiku into the church with him. Kiku startled at that, but followed quickly, nearly stumbling to keep up, "Alfred?"

"No one's in here at this time of day," Alfred said and glanced around again to make sure of that. "It's not like being on the street."

Kiku couldn't help but smile at that, "So in other words we have a place that some consider sacred to ourselves?"

"I figure that if such a god exists, I've already pissed him off enough," Alfred grinned. "Besides, you'd think he'd approve more of love than killing someone." He pulled Kiku a bit closer. "And I'd much rather love you than ever have to fight you."

Kiku reminded himself to relax and nodded, "I would prefer to avoid fighting you."

Alfred looked up at where the sun was shining through the stained glass. "I'm surprised you're not taking more pictures."

Tilting his head back to look, he caught a glimpse of Alfred lit by those same windows and shook his head, "I don't think today's the day for pictures here."

Standing in the puddle of stained glass, Alfred leaned down, motion awkward as he kissed Kiku. Kiku stiffened at that before rising up on his toes to try and ease the angle.  His hands fluttered as he tried to figure out where they were supposed to go and he ended up rocking back sooner than he intended due to lack of balance.  His cheeks were bright red, "You..."

Alfred leaned down again, unsure what to do with his own hands but he caught Kiku's waist this time, helping to balance him as he tried methodically to figure out the right angle. Kiku's hands finally found Alfred's shoulders as he tried to tilt his head to avoid running their noses into each other.  It had the opposite effect but he adjusted very slightly for that.

Digging his fingers into Kiku's hips, Alfred drew back slightly. His eyes darted around the church again and back to Kiku. "You're very lovely."

Brown eyes wide, Kiku stared up at him, nodding, "Yes. I mean, I mean you are too."

Alfred grinned, feeling a bit ridiculous as he leaned down again, nudging their mouths together. The kiss was still close mouthed and fumbled but he figured out a bit more what to do with his hands. Kiku kept a bit of space between them, even as one of his hands found its way to the nape of Alfred's neck and tangled loosely in the hair there.

"I should have thought of this before," Alfred managed.

"It might not have worked before."

"What wouldn't have?" Alfred asked, not removing his hands from Kiku's hips.

"Solitude," Kiku answered.  "We're lucky this was empty at this hour."

Alfred looked around. "As I said, not many people are still religious in this town."

"Luckily for us."

"I'll take it," Alfred said and leaned down again, kiss even more gentle than it had been.

Kiku leaned into the kiss, though the color was still high on his cheekbones.  He murmured against Alfred's lips, "Someone could come in."

"It's a loud door," Alfred replied without moving back.

Pausing at that, Kiku nodded before kissing Alfred again, uncertain in his movements. Almost as awkward, Alfred brought one of his hands up Kiku's back, resting on his shoulder blades. Kiku tensed at that before relaxing again, one hand moving to rest on the taller man's waist and the other still on the back of his neck.

"I'd do this every day if I could," Alfred managed.

"I wish we could," Kiku murmured in response.  "I hate having to hide this."

"I'd shout it from the rooftops," he said. "But I can't and I hate it."

"Someday this has to get better," Kiku insisted, but it sounded weak to his own ears.

"I don't know," he said, touching a strand of Kiku's hair and tucking it behind his ear. "That's a hell of a favor to ask the world."

Kiku's brows drew together very slightly and he frowned, his gaze darting away toward a stained glass depiction of the Virgin Mary, "Is it so much as all that?"

"I know enough about history to know the world doesn't like handing out favors," Alfred said softly. "It's quite bitter about them. And our families sort of have the feud thing going."

"It has to end someday, though," Kiku insisted, feeling like a broken record and pretty sure that he was lying to both of them.

"We can make it end," Alfred said. "But I don't expect to be handed it as a favor."

"It'll take a lot of work, if we ever manage it," Kiku agreed quietly.  "And it's only going to come after loss."

"You think it's worth it?" Alfred asked quietly, thumbs stroking Kiku's cheekbones.

Kiku looked up at him again, "Do you?"

"Yes," Alfred said, surrounded by stained glass and religious iconography in every alcove.

"Even with the cost being your uncle?"

"Someday," Alfred agreed quietly. "I'd not hasten it myself but someday..."

Kiku paused before nodding, "Even that may not be enough, if the Houses are against an alliance or even neutrality."

"Then we'll just have to convince them," Alfred said, not even hesitating to believe that they could.

"We'd better hope that Arthur intends for you to be his heir.  A declared heir might have more sway over his House when he comes to power," Kiku said, managing not to wince as he realized he was treading onto a topic he usually tried to avoid talking about directly.

"Maybe," Alfred agreed. "It might be worth something at the very least."

Kiku nodded, looking toward the door, "We probably ought to start heading home."

"Another moment," Alfred asked, burying his face in the crook of Kiku's shoulder and neck.

Kiku startled but wrapped his arms around Alfred after a beat.

"I don't like letting you go," he managed and almost hit himself for sounding so sappy. "Because hell knows when I get to see you again."

"We've been managing it," Kiku replied, reminding himself to pick up another burner phone on the way home.  He had enough cash on him for that.

"So far," Alfred agreed. "But the way things are going it's just," he took a breath and let it out. "It doesn't worry me. Because everything works out. But I don't like it."

"I know.  We'll be careful.  Both of us.  And we can reach the other if we need to."

"Yeah," he said. "Be sure to text me your new number, yeah?" He'd gotten used to Kiku's habits of buying a new phone.

"You'll have it by tomorrow morning," the other promised.

o-o-o

Several days after Lovino had come into his office, Antonio knocked on the other's door. Lovino looked up from where he was seated cross-legged with his back against the bed, sharpening his knives, "It's open."

Pushing the door open, Antonio leaned against the door frame before thinking about it and closing the door. "How are you feeling?"

Setting the knife he was working on aside, Lovino focused on the other, "Fine.  Better.  Alfonso says the stitches can come out in a day or so.""

"And the bruising?" Antonio asked.

"Faded mostly.  There's one on my left side that's still pretty visible," he remembered the foot connecting with that point but didn't wince at the thought.

"Let me see," Antonio said. "If you could, please."

Lovino hesitated for a long moment before rising and carefully shrugging out of his shirt. Antonio's eyes moved, tracking down his chest and then back up. "They look better. Are you sure you're feeling better?"

"Yes.  My arm's a bit stiff, but I _am_ feeling better," Lovino assured.

"When the stiches come out, you can leave the house," Antonio said and stepped back. "You can put your shirt back on," he said and turned toward the door.

Lovino stood there, blinking at him for a long moment before pulling his shirt on again, "You mean that?"

"How long did you think you were going to be stuck here?" he asked, looking back. "Actually, you've been remarkably obedient to me the last few days."

The smaller man put his hands on his hips, staring at Antonio with something between confusion and exasperation, "You said a couple of weeks or I'd end up in the kitchens."

The corner of Antonio's mouth twitched. "So I did. I'm sorry."

Lovino shrugged slightly, "It made sure I stayed put and let everything heal."

"Which perhaps I should be grateful for," Antonio said. "I was serious though. If you get yourself hurt on top of other injuries again I will make good on those threats."

The younger man nodded, "I understand.  It won't happen again."

"Good," Antonio said, hand still on the door.

Lovino paused for a moment before sitting down to resume his work again, "Are you doing alright?"

"As I can be," Antonio said, tone mild.

He dropped his gaze to the knife in his hand, turning it over a couple of times, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Antonio asked, not quite looking at him.

"Still not being ready to come back," he answered, refusing to look up.

Antonio looked over at the wall to his side. "I said I'd not order you to do something. But I think," he paused and shook his head. "We both had a wonderful fantasy constructed. Or at least I did."

"It," Lovino looked up at that, blinking at him, "No, Antonio.  It's not, it's not that.  I'm just not ready."

"No, it was," Antonio said. "I didn't want to deal with the fact that you were my guard or that I am the Head of this House, I am your boss. There will be days when I will have to order you and Feliciano and Alfonso and everyone else to do what I need you all to do."

Lovino drew a deep breath, nodding, "I know that.  I've always known that, I hope it isn't something that is needed in our personal life, but it's within your rights to give me orders."  He raked a hand through his hair.

"I'd rather not," he said quietly. "But it is still reality. It was just a fantasy to think otherwise."

"It was, but it...this fight isn't the end, Antonio.  Nor is you giving me that order."

Antonio's eyes widened slightly. "No, I never thought... that it would be the end just that... certain things have to change."

Lovino breathed a soft sigh of relief, "Oh thank god."

Antonio frowned. "What?"

"That you didn't think that," he clarified.  "What are you saying needs to change?"

"We need a better working relationship," Antonio said. "Not just sex, not just love. But as Head and guard too."

Lovino paused before nodding again, "And how do you suggest we go about that?"

"I don't rightly know yet," Antonio said, laughing at himself and looking to the side.

That earned a quiet chuckle from Lovino, "Well, we should probably figure that out then."

"It might take time," Antonio said quietly. "We might not have a lot of it to figure things out in."

Lovino looked at him for a long moment at that, "Well, then we had better start figuring it out."

"Yeah," Antonio said faintly.

"We'll work it out, Antonio," the other man murmured.

"Good," he said and opened the door. "Anyway, you're free to leave if you'd like to."

Lovino managed a weak smile at that, "Thank you."

Offering him a strained smile, Antonio closed the door behind him. Lovino stared at the door for several long minutes before shaking himself and turning his attention back to what he had been doing.


	18. We Don't Lie to Each Other

Berwald entered one of the side rooms and almost immediately turned to leave again when he saw Matthias was there.  He paused and his eyebrows twitched together into a faint frown and he looked at the Head of the House rather than leave. "Can I do something for you?" Matthias asked, glancing up from where he was fiddling with a chess board.

"Wh't happened?"  Berwald gestured to his own cheekbone to indicate that he meant the colorful bruise on Matthias' face.

"Oh," he shrugged. "Nothing really. It was several days ago." One hand brushed over the bruise on his cheekbone and dropped again. It spread out over his face and the colors indicated it was a day or two old already, turning an ugly shade. 

"What did you do?" Berwald asked, not willing to let Matthias get away with that answer.

Matthias shrugged again. "It was just a boxing match."

"Some bruise."

"It's not that bad," Matthias said, turning the black king over in his hand. "Compared to other bruises I've gotten anyway. Downright minor and not a broken bone in sight."

The look he earned was entirely unimpressed.  "Why?"

"Why what?" Matthias asked, expression closed off as he looked across the room. 

Berwald huffed, hating having to explain himself so often, "Why go boxing?"

"I needed to let off steam," he said, feeling a petty urge to say it was because Berwald had not wanted him. But that would undermine the very point of letting off steam at someplace else instead of yelling and throwing things at his bodyguard's head.

The other man drew a deep breath in through his nose, the actual answer to his question still left unsaid, he was sure.  " _Why_?"

"There's always plenty of steam to let off," Matthias said. "The city's about to go to war and we're lucky to be to the North instead of the middle but it will hurt us." Their house had hurt enough and he felt ragged running around trying to keep them safe. 

"So you went out 'lone?" Berwald demanded, tone still mild.

"Well," Matthias let out a breath, realizing how stupid that was. "Yeah. You were busy."

Berwald's eyebrows twitched upward slightly, "When?"

"You were doing something with Tino I think," he said, mouth pursed.

That earned a faint frown, "Could’ve gone."

"It was fine," Matthias said. "Besides, it wouldn't really be the same atmosphere to get my face punched in if you're glowering at the side lines."

Berwald offered a quiet snort that might have been a laugh, "Could've taken Sigurd."

"Maybe next time," Matthias said. "But that still certainly wouldn't stop my face from getting smashed in. It's sortta the whole point." 

"Means back-up if more happens."

"Perhaps so," Matthias said, leaning back. "I don't know, I'm trying to imagine you at a place like that." The image made him want to laugh, but he refrained. 

"Can't do it?" Berwald's eyebrows rose very slightly again.

"You don't have quite the right... ambiance," Matthias said, waving his hands out wide, black king still in his left. 

Berwald snorted at that, "Compliment or no?"

"I don't know, I like the place," Matthias said. "On the other hand it's not bad when you're above it."

The other shrugged, "Go often?"

"Fairly," Matthias said. "Less than I used to but you know, as I said there's gotta be some sort of release from the pressure of life." Somedays he went to hit other people, and some days he worried that he went so that other people would hit him. 

Berwald nodded, considering the door and the other seats in the room. "Can I do anything else for you?" Matthias asked, watching him.

He thought about that for a moment, looking at Matthias before shaking his head, "No."

"You sure?" Matthias asked, leaning against the table and arching his brows.

He nodded once, "''Nythin' y’need?"

"Like what?" Matthias asked, not looking away but also not giving anything away by his expression.

Berwald shrugged, "Dunno.  'M not you."

"Thank god for small favors, right?" Matthias asked, grinning a little too easily.

That earned a frown, "N't sure Sigurd’d want two of you."

"Not thinking you'd much like that either," Matthias said, arching a brow. "I drive you crazy enough as it is."

"Not th’t much," Berwald answered with a shrug.

For a long moment Matthias only blinked at him. "Right." He shook his head, dispelling the notion that Berwald was lying to him, or at least trying to. 

"Protecting two of y'd be a problem," Berwald finally allowed.

"See? Just think about how much more of a pain that would be."

"Guess'll have to live wit' just one of you then," Berwald's lips twitched upward ever so slightly.

"What a shame," Matthias said, frowning slightly at what seemed to amuse Berwald.

The other man shook his head, blue eyes sharp behind his glasses, "N't really. Better one th'n none."

"Sometimes you don't act like you like me much," Matthias said, still leaning his hips against the table.

Berwald picked up a white knight from the chess set, turning it over in his hand before setting it down, "Y' c'n be....frustratin’." Considering acting like he was offended, Matthias just nodded. Berwald tapped his fingers against the chess board, trying to get the words to line up correctly before he spoke again, "But, it's not a bad thin'.  N't always."

"Like when?" Matthias asked, listening attentively considering how rarely Berwald spoke.

"When," he paused, trying to sort out what he wanted to say, "when y' not in trouble."

"That's pretty rare," Matthias pointed out with a laugh.

Berwald's lips twitched upward and he chuckled, the sound low in the back of his throat, "T'happens."

"Oh my god you actually laughed," he said before he could stop himself.

Berwald paused and blinked at that, falling silent as he nodded ever so slightly. He looked caught between what on anyone else would be confusion and embarrassment.

"I'm glad," he said. "Or rather—it just doesn't happen all that much." At least not often enough when he caused it himself. 

That garnered a slightly uncertain look, as Berwald shrugged, "Don' us'lly want to."

"Why not?"

He shrugged again, "Dunno. Diff'rent sense 'f humor."  He had little desire to admit that Matthias' laugh was infectious, at least to him.

"Too bad really," Matthias sighed, rubbing a hand against his cheek absently. He always had the bad habit of poking things that hurt.

Berwald reached out automatically and caught his wrist to still his hand, "Don' do that."

Matthias blinked at him. "What?"

"Y' always poke y' bruises.  Y' shouldn'."

"Can't help it really," he said with a shrug. "Just something I do without thinking about it. Besides, it doesn't make them worse or anything."

Finally letting go of his wrist and stepping back again, Berwald frowned slightly, "Still shouldn'."

"I've always preferred to do the things I shouldn't," Matthias just laughed again.

"Like?" Berwald asked, trying to determine if he really wanted the answer.

"Like poke the things that hurt," Matthias said, expression serious.

Berwald tilted his head to one side, considering how many different ways that could be taken, "Jus' bruises?"

"Wounds, general hurts," he shrugged.

Berwald shook his head in exasperation, "Like I said.  Frustratin'."

Matthias almost stuck his tongue out at the other. "Please. That's my issue not yours. Why does it frustrate you so much?" he asked, tilting his head back.

"Because 't causes y' more pain," Berwald answered, his irritation showing.

"So?" he asked. "I'm not causing you pain or anything."

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and deciding he'd been speaking enough that he might as well continue, the other answered, "I don' like seein' y' hurt."

Matthias' eyes widened in surprise and his head snapped back. "I," he started. "Really? Is this just because you're supposed to stop it?" 

"No," he shook his head, watching the other man carefully.

Matthias frowned in confusion. "You sure?"

Berwald met his gaze steadily and nodded once, "M'sure."

"You've sortta punched me in the face too, you know," Matthias said.

"An' y've done th' same t' me," Berwald answered unconcerned by how contradictory injuring the person he didn't want to see hurt might seem.

He laughed. "Alright, I suppose I have.  That's not the point here, though."

Berwald shrugged in response to that, "We've fought."

"It's ironic to ask me not to poke the same bruises you give me," Matthias said.

"Mebbe so," the other considered that before shrugging again.  He knew it didn't make sense.

"You ever make your mind up, you let me know," Matthias laughed and shook his head.

Berwald's lips twitched upward again, finally agreeing, "It's ironic."

"It rather is," Matthias agreed. "You've never struck me as the ironic type."

"M'not usually," he picked up a rook, considering it.

"But you are for me?" Matthias asked. "I'm almost flattered."

"Y'should be," Berwald replied, a faint note of humor in his tone.

Matthias tapped him in the chest. "You also usually don't flatter me." He looked down at Berwald's chest, almost surprised to have found himself moved so close and dropping his hand. 

He rocked back on his heels at that touch, "So?"

Matthias shrugged, dropping his hand. "Maybe nothing."

"Y' meant somethin'," Berwald muttered, setting the rook back in its place.

"Not really," he shrugged, sliding around Berwald and heading for the door. There was nothing he wanted more than to leave suddenly. Berwald did not often talk and he had revealed what felt like too much in too short a time. 

Berwald caught Matthias' arm as he passed him, his grip loose enough to be shaken off but firm enough so it wouldn't be ignored, "M'tthias."

"Yeah?" he asked, not shaking him off.

He paused for a moment before reaching out.  His fingers brushed the bruise on Matthias' cheek on the way to holding the back of his head as Berwald leaned into a kiss. For a long moment Matthias didn't move before jerking back. "You said you didn't want me," he said and cringed.

Berwald frowned in confusion at that before it dawned on him when the other meant, "Tino w's pushing."  He paused, sure that wouldn't convey what he meant, "I lied."

"Why lie to Tino?" Matthias frowned at him.

"He w's pushing."  Berwald shook his head and tried again, "Thought he knew right.  Did know right, but needed t' stop."

"I push you every day," Matthias said, laughing again and shaking his head.

"S'different," the other answered, smiling faintly.

"Well, I'm glad of that then," he said. "So can I push you?" Berwald considered that and then nodded. "Because I'd be very bad at stopping," Matthias added. 

"Y' think I can't stop y’?"

"I didn't say that," Matthias said. "I said I'd be bad at it, not impossible." Even still he smirked again. "But I think even you would have a hard time of it."

Berwald snorted lightly at that, shaking his head, "Mebbe so."

"Not that you aren't welcome to try," Matthias added, half turning again.

Berwald caught him again and pulled him back around, "Like I said.  Frustratin'."

Matthias just grinned at him. That earned another shake of Berwald’s head before he reeled Matthias in to kiss him again, briefly.  Tilting his head back, Matthias twined his arms around the taller man and hung on. Berwald wrapped an arm around Matthias' waist, his other hand resting on his shoulder blade as he pulled him closer.

"Next time, don't lie," Matthias muttered.

"Y' shouldn' eavesdrop," Berwald answered under his breath.

"Tino invited me to," Matthias reminded him.

"Tino asked y' t' talk t' me.  Not listen in."

"Same difference," Matthias shrugged.

"N't really," Berwald protested, but figured it was probably better to let it go.

Matthias just smirked, leaning up again and ruffling Berwald's hair.

Berwald tilted his head back at that, offering Matthias an unimpressed look before reaching up to smooth his hair down again. Hands coming from the back, Matthias dragged them through his hair again. Making an exasperated sound in the back of his throat, Berwald batted at his hands, though there was something hinting at amusement in his eyes.

"What, you look attractive with your hair mussed."

That earned a faint blush as he tried to find a response, "S'easier if it's combed."

"I think we already went over how much I'm not the easy type," Matthias said.

Chuckling quietly, Berwald nodded, "S'alright, I s'ppose."

Kissing his temple, Matthias slid back abruptly and headed for the door. Blinking at Matthias' back, he took a step forward, "What?"

Matthias grinned back at him. "If you think this was all, you're mistaken. But work must be done."

Finger-combing his hair to lie flat again, Berwald nodded slightly.

"You certainly can't trip me into bed with one kiss," Matthias laughed and headed out the door.

"Not tryin' to," Berwald muttered, color high on his cheeks as he watched Matthias leave.

o-o-o

Sitting across from Lars and watching the various other people at the bar, Antonio shook his head. "Are you certain this meet is such a good idea?"

Lars nodded, "I'm sure it is."

"Except you're forgetting to watch his three," Lovino's voice came from Antonio's right and Lars' left before he slid into the seat beside Antonio.

Antonio didn't quite turn around to look at Lovino, inclining his head toward him. "Well that's what you're here for," he said. "To watch my three."

Lovino's lips curled upward and he looked across the table at Lars whose eyebrows arched at the gold hoop in his left earlobe.  The Italian glanced at Antonio, "Remind me again who this meet is with?"

"The Mediterraneans," Antonio said. "Friend of my friend is my friend or some such business."

"I hear they're at least true to their agreements and words," Lovino said, watching as Lars rose and slipped over to the bar not far away.  He would be able to keep an eye on things there, without being immediately associated with Antonio and Lovino.

"Even if we've never really gotten along," Antonio said, remembering the time when Lovino was a teen and had gotten himself nearly kidnapped by Sadiq. Antonio had broken orders to go and fetch him back. He turned finally to look at Lovino and froze completely.

Lovino glanced at him, ignoring the look even as he knew that the gold at his ear caught the light, "I'm an adult now, and more than capable of taking care of myself.  Like you said, we're allies of a sort at the moment."

For a long moment Antonio didn't move. "What?" he managed, the conversation they were having all but gone out of his mind completely. Before he could gather the threads back up, Sadiq sat down in front of him, grinning from beneath his mask. 

"Allies of a sort indeed," he said and Antonio snapped his attention over. "And my, you have grown up."

Lovino looked over at him and nodded slightly as Gupta took his place quietly next to Sadiq, "That tends to happen."

"Such a shame," Sadiq shook his head and grinned over at where Antonio narrowed his eyes. "You have such an expressive face."

"I've been led to believe that maturity suits me," Lovino replied.  He glanced at Antonio but didn't dare more than that.

"It does," Antonio said, taking a breath and slowly letting it out. "So, Sadiq. I believe we have terms to discuss?"

"What do you want?" Sadiq asked, gesturing for a drink to be brought over. "Alliance? Neutrality? Promises to stay away?"

Lovino watched the two Heads, absently twisting the ring on his right forefinger and hoping that the meet would go down civilly.  He knew why Antonio had a dislike for Sadiq and was beginning to think he probably should have waited until the meet was over to arrive.

"Neutrality with trade agreements," Antonio replied, carefully not looking over at Lovino again but he scowled when Sadiq glanced over at Lovino. 

"Trade?" he asked, looking over. 

"We have things you don't," Antonio said. "Certain access to weapons, luxury items."

"And what do you want in return?" Sadiq asked, propping his chin up in one hand. 

Antonio shrugged with a tiny smile. "I like gold."

Lovino coughed at that, managing to hide a laugh in it.  He glanced at Antonio and then to Sadiq again.

"Of course you do," Sadiq said and obviously looked Lovino over again. "No wonder the Latins hate you so much, they're fond of their gold."

"So am I," Antonio said with a tiny shrug.

"It's hardly a bad thing to be fond of," Lovino said simply. "Practical in some ways."

"Valuable," Sadiq agreed. "We do have some gold. So we would trade."

"It's stronger than simply a neutrality pact," Antonio said. "Why disrupt something you're both getting something out of?"

That earned a glance from Lovino, but he remained silent, looking toward Gupta who was watching the exchange without any sign of his thoughts. "So you've become quite practical," Sadiq said, leaning back and folding his hands over his lap. "How interesting."

Lovino's hazel eyes darted back to Sadiq, "You sound surprised by that."

"It's not always been the case," Sadiq said. "It's quite interesting. But alright, I'll bite. I like the idea of trade, weapons for gold. It seems honest even."

"Honest?" Antonio laughed. "As much as we could be I suppose."

Lips twitching upward at that, Lovino suppressed more of a smile, "Direct at least."

"I do find myself liking direct," Sadiq inclined his head.

"It can be beneficial," Lovino said.

"Oh, I'm certain," Sadiq said, a hint of suggestion in his voice but he shook his head slightly.

Lovino simply arched an eyebrow at him and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and letting Sadiq and Antonio continue as they wished.

With several details hammered out, Sadiq pushed himself to his feet moments later. "Well, that was productive," he said, inclining his head. "But I'm sure you'd understand if I don't stick around."

"Certainly," Antonio said, smile a shade too bright.

Gupta rose as well.  Lovino kept his gaze focused on Sadiq, watching him, although he was very conscious of Antonio's proximity. "Good night then," Sadiq said, nodding his head again, and looking like he wanted to laugh as he turned to leave. 

Without looking away from Sadiq's retreating back, Antonio rested his hands on his lap. "Home," he said. "Now."

Lovino got to his feet smoothly, "Am I driving?"  He glanced toward Lars who slipped out of the bar ahead of them to take the car he and Antonio had brought home.

"If you'd like," Antonio said, tone mild even though his body language was tightly controlled.

Pulling out his keys, Lovino glanced at Antonio and headed for where he had parked his car, making sure the other was with him.  They made it back to the house in a surprisingly short amount of time.

Antonio stepped out of the car and managed to pretend everything was fine until they reached the first corner. Grabbing Lovino's arm, Antonio hustled him against the wall. "What the hell?" he asked, voice low and eyes wide in the low light.

Lovino tilted his head ever so slightly to the right as he considered playing dumb.  He knew the light caught the earring and he knew what Antonio was talking about.  He spoke after a moment, "You said you wanted gold there, or you implied it."

"I did," Antonio ground out. "You said you needed time."

"And this is me saying that I've had time."

"Good," Antonio said. "Because if it wasn't, we would be having some words."

Lovino offered him a long look, "I knew what the earring would mean, Antonio.  I wouldn't get it just to torture you."

"Thank god," he managed, not even caring it was blasphemy and slammed their mouths together, pushing Lovino against the wall. The younger man startled very slightly at that before pressing up into the kiss, his hands moving to tangle in Antonio's hair.

"Next time?" Antonio said, pulling back. "Don't you dare in the middle of a meet."

"I'm not planning on getting more piercings," Lovino replied, but he nodded.  "But I won't do that to you in the middle of a meet again."

"Whichever dramatic gesture you next come up with," Antonio said and leaned down again.

"I'll keep it in mind," he murmured, tilting up to meet Antonio halfway.

"Good," Antonio said, pulling Lovino closer and holding on. "Because I'd rather not be that uncomposed in a meet."

"Sorry about that.  I hadn't entirely thought it through."

"Well at least you hadn't planned it," Antonio said with a grin, smoothing his hands through Lovino's hair, tugging on his curl.

His breath caught at that, hazel eyes going unfocused for a moment, "Y-your room?"

"It's been lonely there without you," Antonio grinned, pulling away and taking both of Lovino's hands in his, pulling the other man after him. Lovino couldn't help but smile at that, following Antonio closely and kissing him, hard, once there was a closed door between them and the rest of the House.

"Clearly, too lonely without you," Antonio said, breathless.

That earned a smirk, "Well, I'm back."

"Thank god," he murmured again.

"I missed you too," Lovino said, quietly, still pressed close to the other man.

"And you don't think that I want your brother over you?" Antonio asked, drawing back slightly.

He paused at that, but shook his head, "No.  I don't.  I didn't even really then.  I just..." Lovino sighed, "I'm still not used to this."

"Get used to it faster rather than later," he said, leaning down and kissing the corner of Lovino's eye.

"I still think he'd be better for you," Lovino murmured.

"Oh for the love of god," Antonio murmured. "He wouldn't. Not in the long run. He's neither what I want nor what I need."

Lovino considered that, biting his lower lip, "And I'm what you _need_?"

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "But damn, you're what I want."

That earned a shake of Lovino's head, but he was smiling again, "I still think you're more than half crazy, but...You know, I think I can live with that."

"Good," he said, voice dropping as he tipped forward to kiss Lovino's ear, right above the piercing.

Lovino tilted his head to the right at that, "Careful around that, it's still a bit tender."

"I'm trying," Antonio said, wanting to touch it and barely holding back. "It's not entirely my fault it's so tempting."

That garnered a laugh before Lovino turned his head and captured Antonio's lips briefly again. Groaning into the kiss, Antonio pulled him flush against his body, one hand splayed on Lovino's shoulder blades. Lovino's lips parted, his tongue darting out to trace over Antonio's lower lip as one of his hands moved to the other's shoulder to keep him balanced.

"Love you," Antonio murmured, shifting him back and closer to the bed. Twining close enough that it was difficult to move at all, Lovino hummed at that, still not sure he was ready to actually voice a reply. "I can't believe you got an earring," he added, kissing Lovino's other ear.

"You said you wanted to drape me in gold.  I figure the ring and the earring are things we can get away with in public," Lovino murmured in response.

"I never actually meant for that to be generally in public," Antonio laughed. "I'd drape you in more where others cannot see you. This... this at least it acceptable for others to see."

"That's mostly what I meant," Lovino agreed with a small smile.

"Good," Antonio said, voice still low as he leaned back far enough to drag Lovino's shirt out of his pants and start unbuttoning it.

Lovino set to work on Antonio's shirt as well, getting distracted by leaning forward and kissing the dip of the other man's collarbone when he had uncovered it.

Shivering, Antonio dragged the shirt down his shoulders and kissed each of them in turn. "Let's not fight again," he said.

"You know we can't promise that.  Not us."  Lovino said, but paused, "Let's not fight like that again."

"Let's have completely different fights," Antonio laughed, shaking his head as he smoothed his mouth over Lovino's skin. "And amazing make up sex."

Lovino's breath shuddered at that contact, "I can, I can live with that."

"At least I assume the sex is going to be amazing," Antonio laughed. "It certainly seems like it might."

"It usually is," Lovino replied with a grin.

"My, isn't that the compliment," Antonio said, running his fingers down Lovino's arms and grinning. Chuckling, Lovino leaned forward to kiss him again, his hands sliding up Antonio's chest and under his now open shirt to divest him of it.

o-o-o

Arthur was pouring over miscellaneous reports, making a few corrections here and there as he did so.  He barely glanced up at a sharp rap on his door, expecting his nephew, "Enter."  He had finally been sleeping and relaxing and it was showing in his moods and his work.

Opening the door, Alfred closed it behind him. "Yeah? What do you want, old man?'

Arthur straightened, motioning to a chair in front of his desk, "We need to talk."

"About what?" Alfred asked, expression neutral even as he felt panic flare through him.

"With the city in upheaval, it's time to actually make sure you understand your position in the House explicitly," Arthur said. "It will mean that you'll need to be more available for things like meets, and more willing to pay attention to details of what's going on in the city as well."

Alfred blinked once, glad that at least it had nothing to do with Kiku. "What sorts of meets? And what sort of position do you mean?"

Arthur's brow arched at that, "Meetings with the other Houses as regard neutrality, alliances, agreements, anything along those lines.  And I mean, Alfred, that you are my heir."

Blinking again, Alfred leaned back in the chair he had sprawled himself on. "What?" he managed, voice strained and he started paying attention to his hands.

"It can't really be that much of a surprise, can it?"  Arthur shuffled together the reports, setting them to the side as he watched Alfred.

"No," Alfred said. "It's not. But thinking something and hearing something are entirely different." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Besides, why decide to declare such a thing now? Our House has never done well with heirs."

"Because should anything happen I would rather the House not be divided during a war like we stand on the brink of.  I've always intended you as my heir, I'm just making it official sooner than I might have otherwise."

"Weren't Matthew and I declared heirs before?" Alfred asked, unsure why he was doing so.

Arthur frowned in confusion before realization dawned, "You mean by Jacqueline.  Yes, technically."

"But this time you're only declaring me heir," Alfred confirmed.

"That's correct.  A divided heirship is as good as dividing the House myself," Arthur explained.

"So why me over him?" Alfred asked, knowing why but desperate for an out.

"Because Matthew isn't trained for an heir's position, or frankly very suited to it.  He's better for the House in an intelligence gathering position.  And possibly negotiations, but that's not for me to say entirely."

Considering, Alfred nodded. "Alright, I can buy that. I'm surprised that you consider me suited to the heirship though."

"And why shouldn't I?"  Arthur asked, watching Alfred closely.

"I'm rash, I'm arrogant, and I'll be damned before I change my mind," Alfred said, brutally honest with his own faults for the first time possibly in his life. "And I'm not controllable."

"I'll grant that the rashness is a problem, and the arrogance will come back to bite you in the ass eventually.  But, if you're sure of something you stick with it, and that's something that can be beneficial to a Head.  And being controllable is the last trait wished for in a leader of a House.  However, and I will say this once, you have to keep in mind with all of that, that the House comes first.  If that means you have to reorganize it to make it something you're willing to put first, do so," Arthur leaned against his desk, thinking of the ways in which he had systematically maneuvered people he cared about and respected into positions where if he let the House fall they would too, in order to give himself motivation for that.

Alfred blinked again, his expression blank when it came to putting the House before anything else. "So you say that the House comes first."

"I'm saying that it needs to.  You've the promise of a good leader in you, but sometimes that requires things we may not want."

Careful to make sure his hands were not shaking, Alfred nodded his head. "How public are you making this?" he asked, still outwardly calm.

"The House will know, or at least the higher ranking members.  If I can prevent it, those outside won't.  I would rather you not become a target because of this," Arthur replied.  "Though, as I said I'll be taking you with me to meets from here on, which will mean that it won't be long before the other Houses at least start to suspect."

Nodding again, Alfred glanced at the door. "Is that all?" he asked, voice oddly strained.

Arthur nodded, "Yes, that's everything."

"When will you make the announcement to all the others?" he asked.

"I was considering this evening, if that is alright with you?"  He said, starting to turn his attention back to his work.

"Alright," Alfred said, and shot to his feet quite suddenly. "Do I need to be there?"

Arthur looked up, blinking at him for a moment, "It's not necessary, no, but it would be preferable."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alfred said and turned for the door. Arthur watched him go, frowning very slightly at his nephew's reaction.

Alfred stomped down the stairs, face stormy. Matthew paused where he was just starting up the stairs, "Alfred?"

"Yeah?" he asked, not stopping as he glanced down at his phone. He had Kiku's latest number and was already texting it. Usually he tried to wait for Kiku to text him. "What's up?"

"I was actually going to ask you that, what's wrong?"

"I don’t know what you're talking about," he said, not looking up.

Matthew frowned, "Alfred.  You're in a mood about something.  What did Arthur want?"

"He wanted," he paused, considering. "Well, you'll hear more about it tonight. But it's become official."

"And that's...bad news?"  His brother asked cautiously, watching him.

"I never wanted it," Alfred said, plucking up a jacket.

"You probably should have made that clear a long time ago, then.  Where are you going?"

"Out," he said and shook his head. "Even if I had made it clear, I don't think it would have mattered anyway."

"Maybe not.  You'll be back by this evening?"

"Yeah, been ordered to be anyway," Alfred said with a short laugh. "For the big news everyone expects."

"Be careful, Alfred," Matthew murmured, planning to follow him and make certain he didn't do anything stupid.

"I always am," Alfred said, glancing back. "I'm not that stupid."

"I didn't mean to imply you were," he responded sharply.

Alfred just laughed, closing the door behind him. Matthew waited just long enough to grab his own jacket and slipped silently from the house to tail Alfred.

Looking both ways up and down the street, Alfred walked with his hands in his pockets. Keeping about a block between them, Matthew frowned as his brother reached the neutral zone.  He was really hoping all of his suspicions were wrong.

Dipping into an ice cream store, Alfred sat down and waited. Settling at a cafe across the street, Matthew ordered a coffee and watched quietly.  Kiku arrived just about ten minutes later, glancing up and down the street before slipping into the ice cream shop and sitting down across from Alfred, "What is it?"

"It's nothing, I mean," Alfred sighed, propping his chin up with one hand. "It's something. It's just not something I should have been angry about."

Kiku leaned forward slightly, watching the other quietly, "What's happened?"

"Arthur, the man who does not believe in titles has decided to officially announce me as heir," Alfred said, scanning the shop around them.

That earned a long blink, "Officially?"

"Officially," Alfred said and watched him. "It means going to more meets, but also more official sorts of things. It means not sneaking out so much and it means that I'll be one hell of a target when people figure it out." He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I suppose I already was a target anyway so that's not new."

"If he thinks people haven't already figured it out, he's a fool," Kiku murmured, sitting back in his seat as he absorbed what Alfred had said.  "Well, it just means more caution and more attention to when and where we can meet."

"Yeah," Alfred said, leaning forward. "It means something else though. That someday... if we survive..."

"We'll both be Heads," Kiku finished.

"It could make all the difference," Alfred said quietly.

"We might be able to put an end to the conflict between our Houses," Kiku agreed.

"Kiku," Alfred said, reaching across the table and pausing. "Hey, wanna take a walk or something?"

The other paused, glancing toward a clock, "What time do you need to be back?"

"Tonight," he said. "Which is still a ways away

Kiku nodded, "Then yes, let's take a walk."

Alfred offered him a grateful smile and bounced to his feet

Rising and heading for the door, Kiku returned Alfred's smile with a faint one of his own.  "Are you going to be alright?"

"I will be," he said, hands behind his head as they walked, stretching out his shoulders.

Kiku walked beside him, brown eyes scanning the road as he made certain to keep space between them, "Are you surprised by it?"

"No, not when I think about it," he said and rolled his shoulders.

"But you're not happy about it," Kiku said simply.

"No," Alfred said, looking upward. "Not quite."

"It could be a good thing."

"It could be," he agreed. "But it will be a long process. And I much prefer instant gratification." 

That earned him a glance, "Do you?"

Alfred blinked once and glanced down. "Well," he amended. "For some things."

Kiku's lips twitched upward ever so slightly, "On the other hand, patience has its own rewards."

"I'm starting to see some of that," Alfred agreed, voice dropping again.

Kiku felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks at that, "And those rewards can be very good."

Alfred grinned. "Someday," he said, reaching a hand out to touch Kiku's cheek before dropping it. "Think I'll get more of one?"

Kiku offered him a smile at that, "I think so."

"Good," he said, smiling brightly. "I look forward to it."

Kiku glanced around again before reaching up to brush a lock of Alfred's hair away from his forehead, "I'm so tired of hiding."

"I know," he said, catching his hand. "I hate it. It's not heroic at all and I just hate it."

The other startled, starting to pull his hand away, "Alfred..."

"I can't help it," he said, shaking his head and not dropping Kiku's hand. Any touch he could get felt burned into him. 

"I know, but," he shot a nervous glance around them, "anyone could see."

"You're the one who just said you were tired of hiding," Alfred pointed out, not daring to look over.

"I am," he said, frustration tingeing his tone.  "But we can't not!"

Sighing, Alfred drew back instead of leaning down to kiss him. "No other abandoned buildings you'd like to take pictures of?"

Kiku managed a faint smile at that, "There's another church about two blocks east of here that's lovely."

"Want to check it out?" Alfred asked, brushing their fingers together before locking his hands behind his head to stop from touching.

That earned a nod as Kiku tucked his hands in his pockets and started in that direction, "I would."

Alfred grinned as he turned to follow him. They reached the church quickly though they had not run, neither noticing the constant shadow they'd had since the ice cream parlor. Stepping inside, Alfred glanced around. "Smaller place."

Kiku nodded, "But just as empty."

"Thank god," Alfred laughed and leaned down, hands coming up as he did. Kiku felt his cheeks color as they kissed, his arms slipping around Alfred's neck. Alfred grinned, smoothing his hands over Kiku's cheeks. Kiku drew back after a moment, offering Alfred a shy smile.

"You're beautiful," Alfred said and leaned their foreheads together. "Say, do you think you'll always blush like that?"

"Wh-what?"  Kiku blinked, feeling the blush spread even further at that.

"I like it," Alfred said, tracing his cheekbones again. "I just wonder if it will ever change."

"People change, so it might," Kiku murmured.

"I'm not sure I'd like it," Alfred laughed. "But someday I'd like to do so much more to you."

Kiku's eyes widened and he blushed again at that, "I, I...Alfred," he finished, unable to continue.

Laughing, Alfred swooped down again, brushing their mouths together and holding Kiku up. Startling for a moment, Kiku pressed into the kiss, one hand tangling in Alfred's hair.

The door opened, sunlight glancing in and casting the person there into silhouette.  Kiku stumbled back quickly, but it was a split second too late. Alfred's head snapped over. "What?" he asked, not sure who it was before his eyes widened. "What the fuck?"

Matthew closed the door firmly behind himself, sending them all back into the shadows, "Are you out of your goddamn mind, Alfred?"

"I thought you and Liam had long since agreed that I must be," Alfred said, crossing his arms and stepping slightly in front of Kiku without thinking about it.

"Yeah, and I had also almost convinced myself that my suspicions were wrong," his gaze darted to the heir of the Asian House.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Talking," Alfred shrugged.

"Yeah, it sure looked like it."  His gaze darted around their surroundings, "In a church no less.  I'm trapped in fucking Shakespeare."

"Come again?" Alfred frowned, anger sparking in his eyes over confusion.

"Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene," Matthew quoted.  Kiku nearly choked on the breath he'd been drawing at that.

Alfred blinked once more before his face twisted. "Oh come off it, Matthew. We're not nearly that... bad."

"If I end up as Mercutio or Tybalt in this disaster, I'm coming back to haunt you," his younger brother promised with a frown.

"I should go," Kiku murmured, glancing between them.

"It'd be a short haunting," Alfred growled. "If we play out that sort of story we're dead too."

"Then you'd really better hope I'm wrong, hadn't you?" Matthew replied, his tone matching his brother's and earning a blink from Kiku.

"You're wrong," Alfred said, crossing his arms over his chest, voice and posture firm and his brother could not tell his heart was beating out the quick pace of panic. 

"So you're not meeting illicitly with the heir to the House we're all but at war with?"

"I'm just saying we're not about to star reenacting Romeo and Juliet!"

"You're kissing in a church," Matthew deadpanned.

"We've yet to meet a sympathetic priest," Alfred shot back.

"Good!  It was that sympathetic priest who helped with the hair-brained scheme that got them dead!"

"See, we'll be totally fine," Alfred said, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sure you will," he sighed.  "I know there's no point talking sense to you about this.  You'll keep going no matter what I say, but you have got to pay better attention.  Both of you," his eyes flickered to Kiku.  "I've been following you since you left the House."

Alfred scowled. "I remember a time when you were less sneaky."

"Yeah, and then Arthur trained me into a position I didn't ask for any more than you asked for the place you're at," Matthew responded with a dismissive shrug.  "We're chess pieces, Alfred.  And being sneaky is what this piece has been taught to do."

"So you're bitter about it too then," Alfred murmured.

Matthew snorted, "That's neither here nor there, and not a conversation I want to have here and now." His gaze darted to Kiku again.

Alfred's posture became even more defensive. "What do you intend to do then?"

"Not tell Arthur. I don't want to see what he'd do," Matthew answered.

Line of his shoulders relaxing slightly, Alfred looked over at Kiku. "Do you need to be back?"

"I probably should, yes," Kiku murmured, glancing at Alfred.

Looking back at Matthew, Alfred pulled Kiku with him further into the church. "I'm assuming I'm going to need a new number."

Kiku nodded very slightly, "I had to toss it on the way, or risk someone finding it after it buzzed earlier.  I'll," he glanced back toward where Matthew was examining the workmanship on the church pews, "I'll get you my new number as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Alfred said, resting his hand on Kiku's hip for a moment. "Just let me know."

Kiku swallowed and nodded, "He means it?  He won't tell your uncle?"

"He means it," Alfred said. "Unless things have changed too much. We don't lie to each other."

"Alright."  He paused for a long moment before stretching up and kissing Alfred's cheek, "I will send you my number later.  Good luck."

"Thank you," he said, obviously wanting to keep hold of him.

Kiku stepped back and retreated, the door falling shut behind him.  Matthew turned and looked at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head and starting for the door as well, "You coming?"

"Would I have much of a choice?" he asked.

"I'm not dragging you back, if that's what you mean."

"No but you'd glower and bitch and put up a fuss," Alfred said under his breath.

Matthew offered him an indefinable look at that, "No, that's what you would do.  I'd trail along silently after you until you did what I wanted."

"Putting up a silent fuss is still a fuss," Alfred muttered, tone whining.

"I think I'm well within my rights to put up a fuss right now," Matthew replied, turning wide eyes on his brother.

Shrugging as he walked, Alfred's eyes slide over to the side. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Matthew sighed, and changed the subject, "Did you know Arthur's got plans for all of us?  You me and Liam, once he's gone?"

"I did figure out at least some of that," Alfred said. "At least I always suspected it and hey now it's making it official."

"Yeah, congrats on that, by the way.  Whether you want it or not, you're the one of us with an official position, even if you're not the most cautious of us three," there was something in Matthew's tone that rang a bit hollow at that.

"Do you even want an official position, Matt?" Alfred asked.

He shook his head, "No.  But I'm not sure I want to spend my life in other peoples' shadows either."

"How would you hope to achieve that?" Alfred asked, looking around the streets as they walked.

"I don't know.  I haven't a single idea because that's what I'm good at, isn't it?  Disappearing, blending in, making myself appear less than I am until I'm forgotten.  Until I slip right up to someone and slide a knife between their ribs, or hemlock into their drink."  He shook his head, "I'm good at what I do.  And I'm proud of that, but apparently I'm not cautious enough about it.  Or something."

"Okay, that's the second time that word cautious has shown up," Alfred said. "What's up with it?"

"Apparently it's why Arthur thinks Liam will be so suited to the position he has designed for him.  Because neither you nor I are cautious, but apparently he is."

"It's because he's still scared Arthur is going to shoot him," Alfred said with a loud laugh. "Whereas we know he won't. He probably just likes having someone grovel."

"See, and that's what I think.  Arthur still thinks it can be directed into other areas as well," Matthew replied.  "Maybe he's right.  It still stings a bit."

"It's Arthur," Alfred shrugged. "He does what he does and damn everyone else."

"That sounds about right.  But he thinks he does it for the right reasons," he shook his head.  "I worry sometimes that I'll end up like him somehow."

"With the poisoner’s trade, haven't you already in some ways?" Alfred asked, looking at the sky. "Of course I'm supposed to take his place."

"The poisoner's trade, the manipulation.  I'm just missing the traits that make him a good Head, while you have them in spades. Stubborn, loyal, and you hate to be used or lied to."

"You saying you like being lied to and used?" Alfred asked.

"That's not what I'm saying.  I just, I expect it and tend not to react quite so...vehemently when it happens because of that."

"So dislike instead of hate?" Alfred asked.

"I think that's probably a more accurate term, yes," Matthew agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Pausing for a long moment, Alfred finally looked back over. "You're really not going to tell Arthur, are you?"

Matthew shook his head, "I like you breathing too much.  But if this gets to be too dangerous for anyone around you I might reconsider."

"How could it become more dangerous?" Alfred asked.

"I don't know.  I'm just saying that if somehow it does, I can't support it."

"I'm surprised you're even pretending to support it now."

Matthew turned his head to offer his brother a long look before speaking, "I'm not pretending anything.  I think you're both idiots and this is going to end badly, but for your sake I hope it doesn't."

Alfred hesitated for a long moment, finally smiling. "Thanks for that at least."

His brother offered him a faint smile, "Just don't do anything more stupid, please?"

"I'm going to try really hard not to," Alfred said.

"Good.  How do you even keep in touch?  I've heard Yao can be more controlling than Arthur even, when the mood takes him."

Alfred blinked, not really sure he wanted to tell his brother. "He has a lot of phones," he said finally.

Matthew's brow rose at that and then he nodded, "Huh, well, if it works it works."

"It works," Alfred said, tone firm and final. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! Meadowlark here with apologies from your authors for the lateness of this update. We just both moved back home from our summer internships and in the shuffle of everything I forgot I'd missed a weekend. We're moving back to our apartment soon and starting school not long after, so updates may be spotty for a little while. So apologies in advance, but this fic is wide awake in our heads so it's not like we shall forget it anytime soon.


	19. Hell, I Expect There to Be Pictures

Coming in from where it was raining, Elizaveta shook her long hair out, not quite willing to wring it out on the foyer floor. Flicking it back over her shoulder, she hung her coat up and checked her gun into its proper place before striding up to Roderich's office.

Roderich looked up at the approaching footsteps, his door ajar and quiet strains of Mozart coming from the CD player he had hidden away somewhere in the office.  He shuffled the papers he was working on together and set them aside.

"Sadly there's not much to report," she said, closing the door behind her. "I just came from the border with the Russians and it's been dead silent, beyond that skirmish last week. I almost wish they would start moving, just so we know what they're planning."

"If they're not moving we're not losing more people, and it gives us just that little bit more to prepare though." He said, blinking at her, "Is it raining that badly now?"

"Yes, it's raining that badly," she said, fingering the ends of her hair. "But how much more can we prepare?"

Roderich sighed, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes, "I don't know.  We've done practically everything we can.  I'm just so tired of this waiting.  We're on a knife's edge and there's nothing we can do but slip off it now.  No negotiations, nothing."

"And you miss him, don't you?" she said, sliding down into the chair across from his desk.

"Gilbert?"  The brunet nodded very slightly, "I do.  But there's not much we can do about that, is there?"

"We could convince our allies to do a full out assault," Elizaveta said with a shrug. "I know it's not a good plan but what else are we going to do? Wait forever?"

"A full out assault without any idea of what sort of strength our enemy has?" He shook his head, "We'd end up with more blood lost on our side than on Braginski's, I have little doubt."

"But every day we have a better idea," she pointed out. "I would simply rather... do anything but wait, you know that."

He offered her a fond smile at that, "I know.  The waiting's starting to drive even me up the wall, but we can't risk anything else yet."

With a frustrated sigh, she looked at the wall. "I suppose not."

"It can't go on forever," he assured, though he wasn't sure how reassuring that actually was.

"And when whatever's happening stops, I'm sure we'll look back on the days of waiting with fond thoughts," she said, crossing her legs and leaning back.

"That is almost a certainty," he agreed.

Tapping her fingers against the chair, she shook her head. "Alright. Well, if we can't do anything about the damned Russians, I suppose that leaves me with no other choice than to focus on your personal life."

Roderich congratulated himself on the fact that he didn't groan at that or bang his head against his desk, "Must we?"

Her grin was almost feral. "You're dating Sadiq. Of course I want to hear how that's going."

"We're dating, is there something more specific?"  His eyebrow arched, lazily.

She spread her hands. "You have to do better than that, Roderich."

"We've been to dinner a few times, we've talked, we've seen each other.  I say again, is there something more specific?"

Blinking, she arched a brow. "You've... just been to dinner and just talked?"

"...Yes," he answered, eyeing her almost warily.

"I suppose I hadn't expected Kirkland to have messed with his head that much," she mused, propping an elbow on her knee.

Roderich frowned, all of his attention focused on her suddenly, "What do you mean?"

"He's not the type to," she moved a hand around in a circle. "Take things slow." She didn't quite blush, thinking about what had been a whirlwind romance for several months, meeting each other between meets and occasionally during them, the way he'd sometimes pin her against the wall because they only had a few moments. It had been reckless but he also hadn't been the Head of the House yet.

Roderich paused at that and finally nodded slowly, "And you think this is because of the debacle with Kirkland?"

"I don't know," she said. "Age, experience maybe. Responsibility as Head. But I wouldn't have expected any of those things to calm him too greatly."

"No, no I can't imagine they would," he murmured.  "Well, at least whirlwind's never really been my style."

"And how long have you been seeing him?" Elizaveta asked.

Roderich sighed, "Long enough that I was beginning to wonder about a lack of action.  I was supposed to go to dinner with him the night Gilbert was taken."

She blinked, shaking her head slightly. "I think we'd talked for three hours," she said.

He blinked once at that, processing it before sighing, "Fantastic."

"Most of it was business," she added. "Not that you can't flirt while doing business but it requires effort."

"It does rather, yes," he murmured, considering his own interactions with Sadiq.  Roderich shook his head after a moment, "I am so far beyond my depth."

"Are you?" Elizaveta asked, tilting her head. "I'm not sure I've heard you say that before."

He smiled faintly at that, "I've thought it before.  I've just never been willing to admit it.  I want this to work.  I'm just not entirely sure what I should do."

"I'm not on expert on either romance or Sadiq," she said, still fingering the ends of her hair. "But you might try talking to him. He's usually good at listening. And he cares about romance. I never really understood it."

Roderich's lips curved sardonically at that, "You're a dear friend, but no you've never been much of a romantic."

"No," she shook her head.  "But he likes flowers and candlelight and moonlit beaches and whatever else goes through his head. Music, probably."

Roderich paused at that, remembering something Sadiq had said when they'd first met, "He's asked about my violin.  It's been a while since I've played it for anyone."

“I don't know what's slowed him down," she said. "But it might be a nice gesture." She paused. "I haven't talked to him much in a while. But he got pretty screwed over by Kirkland so I wonder how much he's willing to trust whoever he's interested in. So a nice gesture might go a long way."

He nodded very slightly, considering, "I ought to call him.  See about meeting up somewhere again soon."

"Think about nice, romantic gestures," she offered.

"I'll see what I can come up with," he replied, offering her a bit of a smile.  "Thank you."

She nodded. "You're welcome. But let's never have me give you advice again, okay?"

That garnered a laugh, "If you insist.”

"Of course, in payment for this, I expect to hear the results," she said with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes skyward, "I'm sure you do.  I also know I can't keep anything from you, so you certainly will."

"Hey, my two favorite exes are getting together," she shrugged as she pushed to her feet. "Hell, I expect there to be pictures."

"You're not getting pictures," he replied, blandly.

"I'll try that line on him next," she smirked. "See if he gives in to my requests."

He offered her a fondly exasperated look, "Oh, go get cleaned up."

Laughing, she opened the door and left it slightly ajar on her way out. Roderich watched her go, turning her advice over in his mind as he considered how it might be possible to implement it.

o-o-o

Gilbert felt jumpy every time he turned a corner, just hoping Natalia wasn’t going to be around the next one. Or Winter. But he was hoping Ivan might be.

“Stupid bastard,” he muttered under his breath and felt a flutter of panic when he realized how fond that sounded. “I do not have Stockholm,” he added for his own benefit and raked a hand through his white hair in frustration. 

No one had actually told him he was allowed out of the room on his own, but no one had told him he couldn’t leave either. Since he finally could move without crutches, and since Winter no longer stood at his door, he took that as permission enough. 

Which was probably going to get his leg broken again, frankly. 

Turning another corner, he let out a long breath when there was no Natalia or Winter on the other side. 

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked behind him and he nearly jumped out of his skin, barely catching himself on the wall. Turning slowly, his heart still trying to thud out of his chest, he looked Ivan over, the other standing with his head cocked to the side in childish confusion. 

“Looking,” he started and had to swallow hard. “Looking for you actually?”

“Me?” Ivan chirped in a sing song and Gilbert wondered if the other day had been a hallucination. 

Pushing himself off from the wall, he took a step forward and almost rocked back when Ivan’s eyes darkened slightly at his approach. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. 

“Why?” Ivan asked and Gilbert realized he had no idea what he could possibly say. 

Instead of answering, he shifted from foot to foot for a moment, watching as Ivan frowned at him the longer he stayed silent. “You’ve gone through a lot of trouble,” he said finally. “To get me here. And it’s pretty fucking pathetic that you’re hiding from me, when I’m your prisoner.” 

Ivan’s eyes widened and Gilbert wished someone would just kill him already, the amount of holes he was digging himself. “What?” Ivan asked, looking like Gilbert had actually smacked him. 

“I mean,” Gilbert said and had to take a breath and try again. “If you’re going to kidnap me to ravish me, I really would have expected more ravishing to actually be happening. But you’ve been avoiding me. Which, is honestly, really funny considering I’m your captive. It’s not like I should be seeking you out for… ravish…ment…” he trailed off when he realized what he was saying and almost tripped over backward when Ivan took a step forward. 

“Would you want me to?” he asked, no humor in his voice or face.

Swallowing hard, Gilbert wanted to quake where he stood and only barely managed not to. “Um,” he managed before suddenly he was engulfed by Ivan. It didn’t feel quite like just an embrace, and it didn’t quite feel like just a kiss but like Ivan was trying to consume him through every pore in their bodies and he really should have run. 

They still hadn’t quite figured out how kissing worked, and their noses kept running into each other, there was nothing so fumbling or unsure about this kiss. Their teeth clanked together and Gilbert felt a groan tear out of his chest. This kiss was a battle and it finally made sense to him. 

When Ivan retreated, he advanced, and they parried back and forth, Gilbert trying to practically climb up Ivan’s body to gain the higher ground until Ivan allowed it to him, lifting Gilbert up by the hips and holding him in the air, Gilbert’s hands braced on his shoulders. 

Vaguely Gilbert was aware they were wrinkling the suit he wore since Ivan had given it to him, and decided that was an acceptable casualty. Just as he was starting to wonder if Ivan’s neck hurt from being tilted back so far, someone cleared their throat from down the hallway. 

They startled apart and Gilbert’s arms flailed in the air a moment as he almost fell over backward before Ivan caught him and gently set him down on the ground before turning his head to see who was there, shoulders hunching when he saw Winter watching them. Dropping his arms from Gilbert’s waist he stepped back, and Gilbert wondered how he was still breathing so calmly when he felt like he’d run a race and couldn’t catch enough breath into his lungs. 

“Yes, General?” Ivan asked, the childish pitch back to his voice. 

“I thought you might like to know there have been problems at the casino,” Winter said. “You should deal with them.”

“Of course,” Ivan said, moving away and Gilbert reached out to grab the end of Ivan’s scarf, startling him enough to turn around. 

Gilbert still hadn’t caught his breath, but he narrowed his eyes at Ivan. “Don’t run,” he managed, ignoring whatever Winter thought of them. Ivan’s eyes darkened again and Gilbert released the scarf at the promise he thought he saw there. 

When Ivan strode down the hallway, Gilbert ran his tongue across his bottom lip which felt sore and found himself grinning. Shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the expression, he retraced his steps quickly, still hoping Natalia wasn’t around any of the corners.

o-o-o

Matthew waited until the announcement had been made and everyone had dispersed to locate his cousin.  He found Liam in one of the sitting rooms and closed the door behind himself as he entered and all but fell onto a couch, "I'm not allowed to kill the newly appointed heir.  Remind me that I'm not allowed to kill the newly appointed heir?"

"He's only been minted for an hour, so I'm assuming that's going to be a no," Liam said, looking up from his Gameboy.

"Even if he's a complete moron and I have seen that fact with my own eyes now?"

Liam paused the game, looking up again. "What?"

Matthew offered a thin, unamused smile, "He is a complete moron and I have actually seen proof of how much of one."

"Yes, I heard you say that, but I want to know exactly what he did," Liam said. "And I feel like you want to tell me."

The smile grew sharper, "For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.  The son of a bitch was kissing a certain House's heir in a _church_."

Liam blinked once, never having enjoyed reading Shakespeare. "Was there a priest?"

"Not yet."

Whistling, Liam leaned back. "So he and Kiku really are a thing then?"

"Apparently.  As I said.  Kissing in the church.  After he went straight to Kiku from Arthur telling him that he's the official heir."

Liam blinked. "We're not worried about him sharing information with the Asians, are we?" he asked, stomach feeling like it was about to drop out.

"Sharing information?"  Matthew considered and then shook his head, "I don't think so.  But I don't know if Arthur will see it reasonably if he ever finds out."

"He's not reasonable about the Asians," Liam said, with a tiny shake of his head.

"You know I finally got a straight-ish answer out of him for why he poisoned Yao several years ago?"  Matthew shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

"Really?" Liam asked. "So why did he then?"

"Because it wasn't in his best interest for Yao to be in power."  Matthew grimaced, "Apparently he was able to use poisoning but not killing Yao to appease to more people in the House.  He wasn't even in the running for taking over at that point."

"So his manipulative tendencies certainly aren't new," Liam sighed.

Matthew snorted, "Oh that is the least manipulative thing that I know he did before he came to power."

Liam shook his head. "Arthur's still manipulative, Alfred's an idiot."

"Neither of which is new information," Matthew considered sharing the other bit he knew and decided that he'd wait.

"You have that look," Liam said. "Where you have something else to say."

"I think it should probably wait," Matthew answered, finally using the back of the couch to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Well now I'm all curious like," Liam admitted.

"You're not gonna like it," his cousin warned.

Liam sighed. "It's nicer to tell me than to keep me in suspense," he said, narrowing his eyes at Matthew.

"Arthur's planned out where you, Alfred, and I all fit when he finally, well, when Alfred finally comes to power."

For a long moment, Liam didn't react. "You're surprised?"

"Oh, god no.  I've always known exactly where he expected me to end up," he shrugged.  "You figure it out pretty quick when you can tell at 10 years old what cyanide or nightshade will do when slipped into a specific sort of drink. Cyanide's not a good plan, leaves way too many traces."

"I'm a little surprised I'm included in his master plan," Liam said. "But you and Alfred were... since you showed up really, you were treated differently, it was clear he wanted you for something."

"You really haven't been paying attention then.  He's been the same way since you got here."  Matthew said matter-of-factly, "He'd pretty well warned the last Head off of dealing with Alfred and I, it was only after he tried to get his control on you that Arthur finally offed him."

"Still," Liam said. "It's not quite the same thing."

"Isn't it?"  Matthew asked, watching his cousin.

He shrugged. "Let me guess, you're the backup, the quiet one who protects him and takes out his enemies quietly, while I’m supposed to be the active bodyguard?"

Matthew laughed quietly at that, "Something along those lines.  Though there was also mention of the fact that you've got a sharp mind and would be a good advisor if Alfred could be convinced to listen to someone not himself.  He also thinks you've got more caution in you than either of us."

Blinking, Liam laughed before snapping his mouth shut. "I, um, that must be... crazy talk."

Matthew arched an eyebrow, "Which part?"

"The, uh, caution one," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

Matthew grinned, "Well, if you didn't act so damn terrified of saying the wrong thing around him maybe he'd actually know better."

"Perhaps," Liam said as mildly as he could.

"He's not going to shoot you or stab you or poison you or whatever.  He hasn't done it to your dad yet, you're more than safe."  Matthew considered, "Especially since he's apparently got plans for you."

"Yeah, I'll figure out if that's reassuring or not later," Liam admitted.

"Yeah, good luck with that.  Reassuring and Arthur tend not to be synonymous."

Liam laughed. "He's better than Alfred."

"Only in the fact that he doesn't regularly act like a moron," Matthew replied, shaking his head.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be talking about me," Alfred said from the doorway with a frown. 

Liam really wished he could remember any Romeo and Juliet quotes. "So, are you the Romeo or the Juliet figure?" he asked and Alfred's eyes snapped to him in alarm.

Matthew offered his brother a shrug, "I'll talk about you if I want to talk about you.  And at this point?  I'm calling him Romeo, but we'll see which side draws first blood and that should give us the answer."

"If I'm Romeo you're dying first," Alfred snapped, anger curling in his stomach. Liam was about to say as long as he wasn't Mercutio he was fine but decided against it off Alfred's expression.

Matthew's eyes narrowed, "Then let's hope you're right and this doesn't turn into a reenactment, because personally?  I like breathing."

"You told him," Alfred growled, voice dropping and Liam sank a bit further down in the couch.

Matthew tensed, ready to move as he saw the need, "Yeah, I did.  Liam's not going to tell anyone," he glanced at their cousin, "are you?"

"Are you crazy?" Liam asked. "Hell no!"

Alfred gave him a long look and snapped his expression back to Matthew. "You still shouldn't have."

"We can't watch your back if we don't know what's going on," Matthew replied simply.

"Why do I have the feeling you still don't have my back?" Alfred asked but it didn't sound as angry as he had before.

His brother flinched at that before his face lost all expression, "Well, if that's what you think."

Alfred's mouth twisted, like he was considering what to say. "I'm not sure what to think yet," he said finally, obviously reigning in his anger.

Matthew got to his feet, "Well, let me know when you figure it out."  He looked at his brother for a long moment, "But I've always got your back, whether you think so or not."

Alfred almost asked who had his heart then. "And you won't tell anyone else?"

"I'm not stupid, Alfred.  No, I'm not going to tell anyone else, and this isn't getting to anyone who would tell Arthur."  He shook his head, "It stays between the three of us."

"Good," he managed, voice stiff and Liam looked at him like he'd never really seen him before.

Matthew looked at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head again, "Fine.  I've got a couple of things I should check on tonight."

"Alright," he said, wanting to apologize but still too scared.

Matthew glanced from Liam to Alfred and back but didn't say anything before he slipped out of the room.

Liam pushed himself to his feet, not quite meeting Alfred's eyes when he looked over. "I guess you really are serious then," he managed, not really having believed it no matter what Matthew told him. "We are actually here to look out for you." Alfred just nodded stiffly and Liam decided retreat was in his best interest too.

o-o-o

Closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment, like he still wasn't sure he was allowed to be there, Francis approached Arthur. "You look tired," he murmured, fingers dancing over Arthur's shoulders as he kissed the back of his neck.

Arthur let his head tilt forward and he closed his eyes, "I'm not certain tired begins to cover it."

"You should rest then," Francis laughed. "I can help."

Arthur's lips curved into a bit of a smirk, though even that looked tired, "I think I can stand to take the rest of the night off."

"Good," Francis laughed, hands moving down Arthur's arms to wrap around his hips, still nuzzling against his neck.

Arthur leaned back against the taller man, "Is that why you came here?  To make sure I relax and then rest?"

Pausing, Francis frowned. "Is there another reason I would?" he asked, hoping they weren't back on shaky ground so quickly.

"That's what I was asking you," Arthur replied, tilting his head enough to expose more of his neck without really thinking about it.

Kissing the pro-offered neck, Francis suppressed his sigh. "No, there's no other reason. I'm confused as to why you decided on today of all days to shake up our world, but there is no other reason."

"Because it's long since time.  I'm waiting for the Russians or Asians to make a move, and I don't want to leave the House with a question of future leadership if it comes to that," Arthur answered quietly.

"You don't have to tell me," Francis said, one hand sliding underneath his shirt. "Unless you want to. I'd like to hear but I am here to relax you, not talk business." He paused another beat and smirked. "Unless getting things off your chest counts as relaxing."

Arthur leaned his head back against Francis' shoulder, "That's mostly why I did it.  I had a conversation with Matthew the other day, and it's time for Alfred to actually step up to his responsibilities."

"He's not going to like it," Francis said, remembering the way he stormed out.

That earned a heavy sigh, "No.  He doesn't like very many of the things I've done or had him do in recent years.  I'm also pretty certain that Matthew's mad at me about something as well."

"Well," Francis started, kissing up to his jaw. "They're children still. They're often angry about something or other. What do you mean about making Alfred do things though?"

"Anything that restricts his movements.  He's in his twenties, not sixteen, for god's sake.  He's going to have to start dealing with the fact that his responsibilities need to take a priority of some sort at least."

Francis paused, remembering what Matthew confided to him about where he thought Alfred might be going. "Weren't you rebellious in your twenties? Or did you get it all out in your teens?"

"I was raising two children in a House of killers in my twenties," Arthur answered, sighing again and shaking his head.

"Most people," Francis said, and paused to drag his teeth along the top of Arthur's spine. "Are rebellious in their twenties."

Arthur's breath stuttered at that and the muscles in his shoulders twitched, "Wonderful.  So approximately how long am I going to have to deal with his rebellions then?"

"A few more years," Francis laughed and finally shifted Arthur around to face him, leaning down to kiss his mouth.

Arthur muttered a curse even as he leaned up into the kiss, one hand moving to tangle in the hair at the back of Francis' head while the other braced against his hip. Making a rumbling sound in his chest, Francis dropped both his hands to Arthur's hips, urging him closer. Tracing circles on Francis' hipbone, Arthur pressed himself nearly flush against the other, the kiss turning more demanding as he did so.

"Are you feeling more relaxed yet?" Francis asked with a laugh.

"Much," Arthur replied with the faintest smile before pulling Francis into another kiss, nipping at his lower lip.

Licking into Arthur's mouth, Francis smirked, hand inching up Arthur's back to trail back down his spine. Arthur nearly melted at that touch, hand slipping around to the small of Francis' back to pull him closer. Leaning back with another smirk, Francis trailed both hands up Arthur's arms before meeting at his clavicle, resting on his tie for a moment before slowly undoing it and pulling it from his shirt collar, all the while meeting his eyes.

Arthur returned the expression, never breaking eye contact as he started to slowly unbutton Francis' shirt, letting his fingers ghost down the other man's chest as he did so. Shivering, Francis started on Arthur's own shirt, dragging it down his arms before being the first to break eye contact to lean down and kiss the corner of Arthur's collarbone.

Making a quiet sound at that, Arthur tangled his fingers in Francis' hair again, drawing the other up and into a fierce kiss and pressing skin to skin with him.

"I wasn't done yet," Francis protested, twining his arms around Arthur's waist and throwing himself into the kiss anyway.

Arthur chuckled at that, fingers tracing patterns on Francis' shoulders, "I could let you continue."

Francis just laughed. "I think I was supposed to be making you sleep," he muttered, dragging Arthur with him as he walked backwards until they were closer to the bed and then he pushed Arthur over onto it.

Arthur propped himself up onto his elbows, eyebrow arching as he smirked, "I had heard relax, but if you'd rather I just go to sleep..."

Francis dropped down on top of him, bracing his knees on either side of his waist. "Relaxing it is," he said, starting at the center of Arthur's collarbone and kissing down his chest.

o-o-o

Stopping at the doorframe, Antonio considered where Feliciano was sitting with a book, music in the background at a low level. "So how are you and Ludwig?"

Feliciano looked up, dog-earring the corner of the page he was on and setting the book aside.  He half-shrugged, but couldn't hide his smile, "I think we're doing alright.  I haven't seen him for a while, but I talked to him last night.  He's still really worried about Gilbert, but I think _we're_ doing okay."

"Seduced him yet?" Antonio asked, muscles easy and relaxed and not saying he was still worried about Gilbert too.

Feliciano blushed at that, but shook his head, "Not too much.  Finally got him to kiss me...repeatedly.  And, well, thoroughly, but not more than that.  I finished my painting of him though."

"Will we be able to see it before you send it off?" Antonio asked.

"It's in the room I always use and I'm not sure when I'll see him to give it to him, so I think that would be alright," Feliciano said, pausing for a moment as he considered Antonio.  "Are you and Lovino doing alright again?"

"Would it be that obvious?" Antonio mused, but he was grinning too easily to really pull that question off, having left Lovino curled around the pillows that morning.

The young artist couldn't help but laugh at that, "Probably.  You're both happier when you're not fighting with each other.  A lot happier."

Something flickered in Antonio's expression. Feliciano may have been astute but if others could read them so easily they were in more danger than he'd even anticipated before. Striding across the room, he considered the radio Feliciano was listening to. "Have you tried teaching him to dance yet?"

It took Feliciano a moment to catch up with who the pronoun referred to before he shook his head, "Have you ever watched him move?"

"Yes," Antonio said. "It would be easier to teach Gilbert, I'm sure. But sometimes it's not about whether or not your partner will end up being a good dancer but rather the simple joy of trying it." He smirked. "It will help the seduction along."

Feliciano couldn't help but smile at that as he got to his feet, "I could always try it.  It's been a while since I danced, myself, though."

Fiddling with the controls on the radio, Antonio turned around. "I could give you a refresher, if you like. It's been a while."

"If you're sure," Feliciano confirmed.  "I'd really appreciate it."

"I'd love to," Antonio said, holding a hand out.

Feliciano accepted the hand, "You think I can actually talk Ludwig into even trying this?"

"Talk him into it?" Antonio laughed. "I think smirking at him and playing the music would be enough."

That garnered a laugh, "I'll have to give that a try."

"All you'd have to do," Antonio added. "Is stroll up like this," he moved with the beat of the music as he walked. "And pick up his hands and go. Ignore it if he's blushing." He plucked Feliciano's hands up higher, one on his shoulder and holding the other out. "And just make sure he starts spinning around."

"So now you're teaching me how to seduce Ludwig rather than just re-teaching me dance," Feliciano laughed, moving easily with the motions.

"Well, perhaps," Antonio laughed, going through several steps and smiling when Feliciano followed them easily. "You don't need much in the way of being taught though."

"I still have to have enough memory of the steps to teach Ludwig, or try to," he reminded.  "It's probably going to have to be the tango.  He doesn't move right for any dance, really, but I remember the tango best."

"I think he'd look charming doing a bottle dance," Antonio laughed. "But I think it's more about the process than the result."

"I think he'd look charming attempting any dance," Feliciano replied with a grin.  "And again, more process than result? I'll take the tango."

"The tango for certain," Antonio agreed with a laugh, sweeping Feliciano around the room in a tightly controlled circle. "What would you like to focus on?"

"I'm not sure.  What do you think might be best?"

"Fancy moves would probably be lost on him," Antonio mused, head cocked to one side as he listened to the music. "Basic foot work then, how close you are, things like that."

"Not too close.  Anything closer than how you and I are now might just push him over the edge faster than expected."  Feliciano smiled fondly, "He apologized for presuming too much by running his fingers down my cheek."

"So why not push him?" Antonio asked, quirking a brow. "It'd get results pretty damn fast."

Feliciano's smile slipped toward a grin, "Results would be nice."  He considered, following Antonio through the next sequence of steps before speaking again, "It can't hurt to push a bit."

"You could always move your hands," Antonio said, turning him around. "From the shoulder down his back for instance. Say it's just a move."

Feliciano laughed, "He might actually believe it too."

"Exactly," Antonio smirked, a pleased cat. "Slide your leg around, anything like that. Here, try this," and he twirled Feliciano out and pulled him back in. "Only pull in a little too close, up against the chest."

The younger man's smile looked conspiratorial at that, "You really do know all the tricks, don't you?"

"I've thought about them a lot," Antonio said, returning the grin down at him.

The door slid open quietly and Lovino stepped inside, freezing when he saw Antonio and Feliciano.  He let the door close again just as silently and he leaned against the wall beside it, watching them.  He was fully put together with no sign that he'd woken up in Antonio's bed that morning, and he reminded himself that he was the one wearing Antonio's ring.  It eased his desire to strangle his twin ever so slightly.

Antonio's eyes moved over and he smiled warmly, holding out a hand. "Lovi."

Lovino paused, looking at the hand, "Don't let me interrupt."

Feliciano turned toward his brother, "You're not.  Antonio was just reminding me of a few steps."

The elder twin looked almost skeptical but finally stepped over, taking Antonio's hand, "If you're sure."

Antonio reeled him in, diving into a kiss and licking into his mouth. "Quite sure. Good morning."

Lovino gasped against the kiss, feeling his cheeks heat before he pulled back, "M-morning."

"Anyway, Feliciano's right. We were talking about how he should try to get Ludwig to dance."

"That, that would be amusing," Lovino managed, still blinking up at Antonio.

"Exactly my thought," Antonio all but purred, hands dropping to where he could lead a dance if Lovino felt like it.

Lovino slipped his hands into Antonio's, "Has he offered to film that attempt?"

"Ha.  Ha.  No," Feliciano answered from where he'd returned to the couch.

"We could sneak a camera in," Antonio said, leaning down to whisper to Lovino.

Lovino grinned, moving closer to Antonio with the music as he murmured back, "If he lets us anywhere near this we'll have to try."

"Good," Antonio said, fingers curled around Lovino's hand, tracing the ring he wore on his right. "I don't think we've properly danced yet."

"Not really anything 'proper' about what we have or haven't done," Lovino remarked, hand tightening on Antonio's shoulder.

Antonio laughed, leaning his neck back. "Perhaps not. But you saw how I danced with your brother, yes?"

Lovino tensed very slightly, "Yes, I saw."

"Then you should know how I dance with you," Antonio said, waiting for the beat of the music before surging forward. He'd pulled Lovino against him, sliding along the floor as if they were molded together.

Lovino felt his cheeks heat and he nearly stumbled through the first few steps after the change before he caught himself and moved with Antonio.  He could feel himself scrambling to remember that they were still technically in one of the side rooms and his brother was there, but his focus was rapidly narrowing to encompass only Antonio.

Guiding him through the dance, Antonio lunged forward, pressing their bodies together, closer than was strictly allowed. Rising again, he twirled Lovino out and brought him back in close, holding him against his chest. Swallowing hard, Lovino pulled himself as close as he could and still allow them the movement required by the dance.

When the music came to a stop, Antonio smirked down at him. "Can you tell the difference?" he asked, leaning down to brush his mouth near Lovino's ear.

Lovino managed a breathless, "Y-yes." Feliciano smirked from where he was still seated, watching them dance, but stayed quiet.

Antonio pulled back, fingers trailing from Lovino's wrist all the way down his fingers as he did so. "I do hope you were paying attention," he shot over to Feliciano.

"Completely," Feliciano answered, a laugh in his voice.  "Teaching him will be one thing, managing a dance like that?  That's all you two."

Antonio smirked, looking pleased by that before he tilted his body back toward Lovino. "We should," he started to say and gestured. Lovino swallowed again and nodded, twining his hand tighter around Antonio's rather than attempting to trust his voice. "Excellent," Antonio said, gesturing vaguely to the wall and dragging Lovino out the door with him.

Feliciano laughed, watching them go before reaching for where his phone was resting on the table by the couch. Lovino finally managed to find his voice once they were out of the room, "That...that was new."

"Was it?" Antonio asked, crowding him against the wall around the next corner and dipping down for a kiss. "I've always wanted to dance with you like that."

"So, so the first time you do so is in front of my _brother_?" Lovino's voice was less incredulous than he meant it to be.  He was still in shock over the dance.

"After our last fight?" Antonio asked, leaning down to touch his mouth to Lovino's cheek before all but growling, "I wanted to show the both of you exactly who you belonged to and who _I_ belonged to."

Breath catching again at that, Lovino caught Antonio's chin and captured his lips in a biting kiss. Bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Lovino's shoulders, Antonio leaned into the kiss, fighting with Lovino for dominance in it. Nearly growling in the back of his throat as he pressed into the kiss, Lovino let his hands grip Antonio's hips and pulled the other man closer.

"Get up the stairs," Antonio said when he caught a breath.

Lovino smirked before slipping out from between Antonio and the wall, heading for the stairs and letting his hips sway ever so slightly. Remaining braced against the wall for another beat, Antonio turned his head to watch before following quickly. "Consider going faster," he added, tone conversational as he splayed his hands on Lovino's back and gave him a slight push.

"Impatient aren't you?" Lovino asked, glancing up at Antonio, his curl hanging in his eyes.  He smirked but took the stairs two at a time, reaching the bedroom door a couple of paces ahead of Antonio.

Once at the door, Antonio caught Lovino up again, waltzing him around in a circle a couple times. "And you're not?"

"I'm always impatient," Lovino answered, drawing closer with the motion of the steps.

Antonio curled his hand at Lovino's waist, digging in. "Thank god for that at least."

Smirking again, Lovino pressed up abruptly for a demanding kiss, using the momentum of that and the dance steps to drive Antonio back toward the bed. Even as he went, Antonio continued to twirl them in tighter and tighter circles before falling back onto the bed and dragging Lovino with him.

Lovino braced himself on his elbows on either side of Antonio's head, leaning down and biting at the other's lower lip and keeping their bodies pressed against each other. Bringing his knees up on either side of Lovino's hips, Antonio laughed into the kiss, licking the roof of Lovino's mouth. Lovino moaned, pressing down further and shifting his weight to one arm so he could use one of his hands to slip under Antonio's shirt and trace over the other man's skin.

Antonio just yanked Lovino's shirt off, pulling his head back enough to get it over Lovino's hair before carding his fingers through it, pulling on the curl. Pulling Antonio's shirt off, Lovino dove back into the kiss, biting almost hard enough to draw blood.

"You're like a vampire," Antonio laughed, leaning down to suck at Lovino's neck.

"Who's focused on whose throat?" Lovino replied with a grin as he ran his hand down Antonio's side.

"You're right," Antonio agreed, dragging his teeth along his jugular.

Lovino tilted his head back causing the muscles and tendons in his neck to tighten under Antonio's teeth, "F-fucking hell."

"Could dress up," Antonio mused. "Black cape, probably leather and ruffles."

"Leather.  Cape.  No ruffles," Lovino replied.

"Not even lace ones?" Antonio purred, still kissing and sucking on Lovino's throat.

"Satin.  I, I could live with satin.  Red or black," he managed, arching against his lover.

"I'll see what I can find," Antonio laughed, dragging Lovino's head down for a kiss, tilting his body up into it.

Lovino drew back just enough to catch a breath, resting his forehead against Antonio's and smirking. Fingertips running up and down his spine, Antonio considered. "You know, I was rather serious about having you fuck me one of these days."

Blinking at him once, Lovino moved his hand to dig into Antonio's hip, "Were you?"

"Completely," Antonio drawled.

Nipping at his jaw, Lovino let his lips curl into a smirk against Antonio's skin, "So...like today?"

"I was just about to ask if you'd like to try," Antonio laughed, pressing his knee against Lovino's side. Lovino grinned down at him before leaning down and capturing Antonio in a fierce kiss again. "Good answer," Antonio laughed, tilting his head back against the pillows and still grinning.

o-o-o

Feliciano stretched out on the couch, resting his head against the armrest as he called Ludwig. "Yes?" Ludwig asked, plucking his phone off his desk and cradling it between his shoulder and ear as he kept working.

"Ludwig?  It's Feliciano.  I'm not interrupting am I?"

"It's perfectly fine," Ludwig said, instantly capping his pen and setting it down and straightening up.

The young Italian smiled brightly, even though Ludwig couldn't see him, "I was...well, I was calling ‘cause I miss you.  And I finished my painting.  Do you have a time when we could see each other?"

"Tomorrow evening?" Ludwig offered. "I'm having dinner with the Nords tonight. I think they're pretty set on staying out of everyone's way but it's always best to know where other Houses stand and they are roughly allied with the English now."

"Tomorrow evening would be perfect," Feliciano agreed.  "I hope everything goes well tonight."

"I'm rather sure nothing will go wrong," Ludwig said.

"Going right and going well aren't always synonymous," Feliciano replied before he thought about it.

"True," Ludwig smiled. "But I understand the Head of their House so I don't expect it to go anything but well. Where would you like to meet?"

Feliciano paused for a long moment considering what Antonio had said and the fact that he had to deal with the portrait he'd done, "Um, well, I was wondering if we could perhaps actually meet at one of the Houses?"

Ludwig paused for a long moment. "I think my security would keel over and die if I suggested meeting you there, I'm sorry."

That earned a quiet laugh, "Well, perhaps something more neutral then."

"You could come here," Ludwig said. "But I don't want to presume after saying I couldn't."

"No, I, I'd like that," Feliciano replied quickly.  "It would be a nice change, and your security wouldn't have to worry about it then."

"Only if you're comfortable," Ludwig said quickly. "I can't ask you to do something I couldn't."

"I don't have the same restrictions and responsibilities," Feliciano reminded.  "And I offered the Houses as a suggestion in the first place."

"Then please come," Ludwig said quietly.

Feliciano smiled again, "What time do you want me?"

"Whenever you like," he said, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"Six thirty?" Feliciano offered, trying to keep his elation at least somewhat contained.

"Yes," Ludwig agreed. "Would you like to do dinner? Or have dinner rather?"

"I, yes."  Feliciano looked around the room, considering and deciding it wouldn't be too difficult to simply bring the CD with the music on it.

"I'm not a great cook," Ludwig warned.

Feliciano laughed lightly, "I could pick something up and make it, if I can have access to your kitchen."

"If you would like," Ludwig said. "I... someday I'd like to at least try and cook for you but... but for now that might be best."

"I don't have to.  If you'd rather cook, I'm sure it'll be fine," Feliciano said, still smiling though knowing he could be a bit of a snob when it came to food.  He would probably be able to set that aside if Ludwig cooked.

"Not tomorrow," Ludwig decided. "But someday. I'd have to try and get you to come back for something, wouldn't I?"

"You don't have to try very hard," Feliciano replied.  "I just like seeing you."

Ludwig blushed, staring down at the papers in front of him. "Then I'd like to make sure you're not about to get bored."

"I don't think that's anything to worry about, but I look forward to you cooking for me someday," Feliciano said, laughing quietly and picking at a loose thread on the couch.

"Then tomorrow?" Ludwig asked, voice warm.

"Yes.  Tomorrow.  I'll be there by six thirty, if you don't mind a bit of a late supper."

Ludwig didn't admit that he usually ate after it got dark out because the changing light was what reminded him he hadn't eaten since lunch. "I'll see you then."

"Have a good night tonight," Feliciano chirped.  "Take care."

Ludwig found himself almost caressing the phone. "Good day, Feliciano."

"Good day, Ludwig," the other replied, feeling like he couldn't stop smiling as he finally hung up and lay back to stare at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies from your authors for the length between updates this time. We're finally moved back into our apartment, but Meddalarksen (who is in charge of the updates for this fic) has been frantically sewing "inspired by" outfits for comic con this weekend. Updates will hopefully become more regular again, but we start classes next week so we apologize in advance if that doesn't prove to be the case.


	20. Take a Small Risk Sometimes

Kiku checked his second phone; he'd taken to keeping it on silent since Alfred had become the official heir.  There were no messages and he quickly returned it to its hiding place before slipping out of his room, wondering not for the first time how sustainable the relationship actually was.

Meeting him in the hallway, Leon gave Kiku a mild look. "Yao wants your attention."

Kiku managed not to react with more than a blink to that, "Thank you for letting me know."

"He usually wants your attention," Leon replied. "He usually just finds me first."

"I had noticed that," he paused for a moment, lowering his voice.  "Do you miss the other House?"

Having started to take a step away, Leon stopped and turned only his head to look back at Kiku. "How many years has it been? Why ask that question today?"

"Because I'm curious."  Kiku looked at the younger man, not yet eighteen, "You don't have to answer."

Leon shook his head slightly. "It's a dangerous question to ask, isn't it?"

Kiku looked down the hall and nodded, "Yes."

"Then you'll notice that while I took his family name like he asked, I did not change my other one," Leon said quietly. "Please don't ask again unless there's a reason."

Kiku nodded once, acknowledging the request before going to find Yao. He tried to dismiss Leon's words from his mind, but the teen's choice regarding his name had always struck him.  Maybe there was hope within the House for an alliance with the English House in the future, as long as they weren't directly responsible for pain to the current House.  He paused outside of Yao's office, knocking on the slightly ajar door and causing it to swing open.

Hair a jumbled pile on top of his head to keep out of his eyes, Yao looked up. "Did you manage to come on your own or did he find you?"

"I was on my way down to see if you needed anything, but Leon found me before I arrived."

The corner of Yao's eye twitched as it always did to hear that name. "I need you to take care of business down at the south side of town. The suppliers down there are getting restless again."

"The same ones as last time or more of them?" Kiku asked, watching Yao's reactions quietly.

"The same ones, for the most part," Yao said, moving a pile of papers from one side of his low desk to the other.

His heir nodded once, briskly, "I'll see to it.  Is there anything else?"

"You're always so punctual and economic with your words," Yao said. "I almost think you don't like me, with how little time you spend here."

Kiku blinked once at that, considering the office as a whole, "I just wish to be certain that any issues with the House which you entrust to me are handled quickly and efficiently."

"Which you do," Yao said, putting his chin on the backs of his folded hands. "But that does not explain all the time you spend away from the House either."

Kiku looked at the Head of his House for a moment, "It is best to have some acquaintance with the people I will have to work with to smooth over things, like you're sending me to do now, and so I've found it beneficial to take time to meet people in the territory and see if they are having trouble.  They aren't, if they were you would hear immediately."

"A wise explanation," Yao remarked, clearly believing that wasn't all there was to it.

Kiku paused at that wording, "It wasn't meant to be.  It was meant to be an honest one is all."

"Then why do you never come for meals anymore?" Yao asked, sounding the most put out by that.

That earned a single blink, "I hadn't realized I'd missed many. I shall strive to be here for meals more again."

"Perhaps it doesn't matter," Yao said, pulling a hairpin out of his hair and sending the whole thing tumbling down before twisting it back up.

"You wouldn't have said anything if it didn't," Kiku murmured.  "So I shall try to be here more."

Yao considered him through narrowed eyes a moment. "You were always a quiet one," he said. "But lately I get the feeling you truly have been hiding something."

"It would be foolish of me to hide something from you," Kiku replied calmly, expression never changing even as he felt his pulse speed up.

"Yes, it would be excessively so," Yao agreed. "Which is why you'd never do something like that, would you?"

"Of course I wouldn't do something like that," his heir said simply.

"Good," Yao said with a nod. "Will you be back for dinner?"

"Yes.  I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Good," Yao said again, already looking down at the papers in front of him. Kiku hesitated but nodded and slipped out of the office to deal with the suppliers.

o-o-o

Sadiq turned the tulip around in his hands a couple times as he leaned against the hood of his car, waiting for Roderich to come down from the house. He could have gone up and knocked or stepped inside, but he did not feel like dealing with the fuss of stepping foot in another House. He turned the tulip around again and almost tossed it away before Roderich appeared.

Roderich exited the house, closing the door firmly and cutting off the sound of Vash's voice still going on in French at him.  He was impeccably dressed as always and carried his violin case under his left arm.  It had taken him nearly as long to convince himself that it would be alright to bring the instrument as it had to get ready and argue with Vash over exactly how much the blond was not allowed to place a curfew on him.  He offered Sadiq a smile as he approached, "Hello."

"Hello," Sadiq greeted, having watched him come down the steps. Eyes on the violin case, he held out the single tulip.

Roderich accepted the flower, sniffing it as he registered where Sadiq's gaze was, "You had once mentioned an interest in hearing me play."

"I had," he agreed. "I just didn't entirely expect it tonight. The dinner reservations are in fifteen minutes."

"It can wait until after dinner," Roderich assured him.

"Well then I was gonna take you to a concert," Sadiq said. "But I suppose if you would rather have a private one, I have no intent of arguing." Even though he'd avoided being alone with Roderich very often.

The intelligence officer was aware of how rarely they had actually been alone and he considered Sadiq carefully, "If you're sure you're alright with the fact that me playing for you would mean us being alone. I have no objections to a concert if that would be your preference."

The corner of Sadiq's mouth twitched as he moved behind the wheel of his sleek car. "Why would I mind that?"

Settling into the passenger seat, Roderich glanced at him as he leaned around far enough to carefully set the violin case on the backseat, "I couldn't say.  I'm good at what I do, but I still fall short of mindreading."

Sadiq laughed, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he looked over. "Well then I suppose I should be grateful I still have some mysterious aura left."

"Oh you've several layers of it left.  You're also apparently confusing Elizaveta in your actions as well," his lips quirked upward as he turned his gaze out the windshield.

His fingers stopping, Sadiq looked over at him as he put the car into drive. "What?"

"Nothing, just something she said a few days ago. She's nosy, invasive, and could get answers out of stone if she wanted to, I'm sure," he mused, brushing lint off of his slacks.

"I wouldn't know," Sadiq said. "I never knew her all that well. Besides the nosy I suppose."

"She still counts you among her favorite exes," Roderich said, shrugging very slightly.

That startled a laugh out of Sadiq. "I can say I didn't expect that."

"Specifically, I think she actually said you're one of her two favorites," Roderich smirked, glancing over at the other man.

"Then who's the other one?" Sadiq asked, eyes sliding over before snapping back to the road.

"Myself actually," Roderich answered.  "We work better as friends, always have."

Sadiq still startled like it might have been better to tell him once they were pulled off the road. "You two dating? I'm trying to imagine it."

Roderich snorted, "It was a bit of a disaster, really.  We were, somewhat, friends before and we're friends now, but our friendship grew very strained when we dated."

"And the sex didn't make up for it then?" Sadiq asked and shook his head slightly. "Sorry."

"No, it....we're far better friends than we ever were in a relationship."

"It wasn't a question I should have asked," Sadiq said, shaking his head before pulling into the restaurant parking lot. "We didn't get lost, and we're on time. I'm definitely always driving from here on out."

"It was once.  I got us lost once," Roderich protested.  Though admittedly that was because he was driving out of portions of the city he knew well.

"Once was enough," Sadiq smirked over at him, adjusting the mask he wore before stepping out of the car and squaring his shoulders back.

Roderich climbed out of the car, falling into step with Sadiq, "You're never going to let me drive again, are you?"

"Probably not," Sadiq agreed cheerfully, holding an arm out before stepping inside.

Roderich laughed lightly, entering at his side, "I suppose I can live with that."

Sadiq glanced at him sideways, not saying anything about whether or not Roderich was willing to live with him. Instead he smiled and nodded at the host, making vague conversation as they were lead to their table and deposited there with menus. Roderich took his seat opposite Sadiq, looking over the menu before glancing at the other, and pausing for a long moment, "Where are we going?"

"To a concert, I believe," Sadiq asked, not looking up.

That garnered a sigh, "And after tonight?"

"You meant the question abstractly, didn't you?" Sadiq sighed, finally looking up.

"I did, yes," Roderich replied, watching the other man calmly.

"Then I don't know," Sadiq admitted.

"I want us to work, Sadiq."

"Did I ever give you reason to doubt that I would too?" Sadiq asked, frown obvious through the mask.

"No, never," Roderich assured him.  "I just wish I knew where we're going, what we're doing."

"Aren't we having a relationship?" Sadiq asked.

"We are," the German made a quiet noise of frustration, knowing he wasn't conveying what he was asking very well. "Will we ever reach a point where we're comfortable in a setting that isn't," he gestured to the restaurant as a whole, "very public?"

Sadiq considered him a long moment. "Has it bothered you?" he asked finally.

"Perhaps a little," he admitted after a hesitation.  "I don't mind taking things slowly, but we've been seeing each other on and off for months."

Turning a fork around several times, Sadiq sighed. "And you talked to Elizaveta which probably means she indicated surprise at this."

"That...yes, she did, but it's not only that.  I move slowly, if you talked to her she'd say I move glacially.  But this, this is slow even for me," Roderich murmured.

"It's because you're special," Sadiq said, watching him closely from across the table. "Glacial, yes, but I don't want this to become what everything else always has."

Roderich weighed that for a moment before offering Sadiq a faint smile, "Glacial movement is fine. Really, it is.  I want, I want this to last.  It's important to me, very much so."

The line of Sadiq's shoulder relaxed. "Good," he said, still turning the fork around as he watched Roderich. "I'm sure the entire city knows about the mess my last relationship turned into."

Pausing, Roderich nodded slightly, "At least somewhat, yes.  This won't become that."

"As everyone would say," Sadiq said, tilting his head to one side.

Roderich rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, "I've no desire to gain from this. I care about you.  I care about _us_ , more than I've cared about anyone, or any relationship in a very long time."

"And I'd like to trust you," Sadiq said. "I'm just still not sure if I can yet or not. But I'm working on it."

That garnered another quiet smile, "Then we'll continue as fast or as slow as you like.  Just... communication of that would be nice."

"I'll see what I can do," Sadiq said finally.

"Thank you," Roderich murmured by way of response.

"Will you enjoy dinner more now?" Sadiq asked, arching his brow.

"I would have enjoyed dinner before, but perhaps yes," he admitted, pulling his gaze away from Sadiq.

"More so," Sadiq smiled. "Have you decided what you want most?"

"For dinner?" Roderich glanced at the menu again, "I was thinking the primavera."

"And after dinner?"

"You mentioned you had planned on a concert, I believe? Although I brought the violin, it can easily wait." He could probably convince himself to remove it from the House a second time.

"Well, the question is would you be willing to play afterwards?" Sadiq asked, tilting his head again. "Because I would dearly love to hear it but I had such an elegant evening planned."

Roderich smiled at that, nodding, "I would love to play for you."

"And I would love to hear it," Sadiq said softly.

"It's been a while since I've had anyone listen while I played," Roderich replied, straightening his silverware to give his hands something to do.

"Who used to?" Sadiq asked, watching him and trying not to smile at the same nervous habit he had.

"Gilbert, when he didn't join me in practicing," Roderich answered, glancing up again, his brown hair hanging against his forehead for a brief moment before he brushed it away.

Sadiq's brows shot up. "Truly? And what did he practice?"

That garnered an amused smile, "He plays the flute.  Quite well, actually."

That started a laugh out of Sadiq. "The flute? Gilbert? I wouldn't believe he'd stay still long enough for that!"

"It's the only thing that he ever stays still for," Roderich replied, sounding caught between amused and fond.

"I'm not sure I'll believe that until I see it," Sadiq admitted. "But you sound like you miss him."

"He's been a good friend for many years.  The House is too quiet without him there," Roderich said, quietly.

"I'm sorry," Sadiq said. "But you know he's alright at least?"

"That is what we keep hearing, yes.  It's not the same as having him home, but it is reassuring to know."

"Well at least it means someday he will come home," Sadiq offered.

The musician replied with a quirk of his lips, "Hopefully, yes."

"He will come home," Sadiq said, reaching across the table to take Roderich's hand.

Roderich let his fingers curl around Sadiq's hand as he finally nodded, "He will.  Eventually."

"And he'll be as loud and pestersome as always," Sadiq said. "Not even Ivan could change that, though god knows what he's doing there."

"That is what we're all wondering, and is a bit of a concern.  Ivan refuses to accept any talk of a negotiated release, after all."

Tilting his head, Sadiq sighed. "It seems damned odd to kidnap someone without ever saying why."

Roderich took off his glasses, setting them aside before rubbing his eyes with his free hand as he nodded, "But he won't give an answer and the longer this lasts the more I feel we're caught up in a Greek myth."

"Well, when six months are up it might be time to ask if he's eaten any pomegranates," Sadiq drawled in response.

That earned another quirk of Roderich's lips, "Here's hoping the answer's 'no'."

"Losing him another six months next year doesn't sound appealing." Sadiq paused a beat. "Would that put Ludwig as the goddess of the seasons then?"

"He'd make a very charming Demeter," Roderich mused.  "Though I'm not certain how well it fits him."

"He has the sunny and the cold moods down," Sadiq mused.

"Six months of Ludwig in a cold mood is not something I would like to see, though," came the reply.

"No," Sadiq agreed with a laugh. "Thankfully he has Feliciano Vargas to look after his moods now."

"Feliciano is doing him worlds of good," Roderich agreed. "Even with Gilbert gone, he's at least capable of some happiness, which is not something I ever expected to be able to say."

"They're a shade," Sadiq considered and waved a hand. "Well beyond co-dependent, aren't they?"

"Gilbert and Ludwig?"  Roderich arched an eyebrow before he shrugged, "I suppose that's one way of putting them.  Gilbert... Gilbert's always been loyal to Ludwig first and anyone or anything else second. And Ludwig has come to trust that his older brother will be there."

"It must be hard," Sadiq said after a beat. "To lose the person you most trust."

Roderich nodded, "It seems to have been, but Ludwig is managing better than I think we expected."

"People surprise you when you least expect it," Sadiq said with a slow smile.

His lips curved upward again, "We've spent a lot of time talking about me and my House tonight.  How are you doing?  And how are you doing with Heracles and his cats?"

"I finally convinced him I'm not killing any of them," Sadiq said, smile turning into a smirk "However, I think he's hiding the honey in retaliation for something."

Roderich ducked his head and tried not to laugh at that, "Have you done anything to deserve retaliation recently?"

"Not that I’m aware of," Sadiq laughed. "Yet."

Eyes dancing with mirth, Roderich looked up again, "Well, hopefully you can figure it out and he stops hiding the honey."

"Or I can just buy more," Sadiq shrugged as if that would be an easier solution.

"That's always an option, so long as he doesn't find it as well."

"Ah," Sadiq held out a hand. "Once he could pass off as being pissy or misguided. Twice and he'd have to talk to me about whatever's bothering him."

Roderich laughed, "So either it will be safe or you'll have an excuse to ask after it.  Seems to benefit you either way."

"And if he did it a third time he'd be out on his ear with his fucking harem of cats."

"Which, except for the removal of the cats, would not be as favorable for you," Roderich remarked, sipping at his water.

"Probably not," Sadiq agreed with an exaggerated sigh. "I never want to raise a teenager again, I don't care who his mommy was."

"You seem to have done pretty well with him," came the reply. "But I can see why you wouldn't want to repeat the experience."

"No," Sadiq shook his head with a laugh. "And you only say that because you don't know him that well."

Roderich chuckled, "That's probably true.  Supposedly they grow out of it eventually."

"Supposedly," Sadiq agreed and shook his head. "Did Lili have this phase or was she just born darling?"

"She was just born darling," the other admitted with a smile.  "Though she's growing up whether her brother would like her to or not."

"She will be brilliant when she does, and I hope he sees that." He paused, chin on his palm. "Do I want to hear the horror stories of you and Gilbert as teenagers?"

"God no, you really don't," Roderich shook his head quickly.

"But now I'm curious," Sadiq said, looking like a well content cat. Hercules' brood must have trained him how.

That garnered a rueful smile, "It depends on who you ask as to how bad we were.  Gilbert was a right terror in many ways, but all it took was Ludwig around to keep him from crossing too many lines."

"And you?"

"Me?"  Roderich blinked at him innocently, belying that almost instantly with a smirk, "Why I was perfectly well behaved in every way."

"Of course you were," Sadiq drawled, not believing it.

"I tended to get myself into more trouble than I could get out of—drove Vash mad. And anything I could do that would irritate my father usually moved to the top of my to-do list," he admitted with a shrug.

"When you put it that way you sound like the very model of propriety," Sadiq said, shaking his head. "Why did your father anger you so much as that?"

"I was never good enough, and I grew tired of asking 'how high' every time he said 'jump'."  He frowned at his glass for a moment before taking a sip of water, "He believed my music to be a waste of time, and wanted me to do nearly anything except work with the House."

"Like what? There isn't much in our lives beyond the house."

"He had a business that, while utilized by the House, was less directly tied to it than some things.  He wanted me to take that over.  I wanted to do what I do now," Roderich answered simply.

"At least you are very good at what you do now," Sadiq said, voice warming. "And you are doing it."

The intelligence officer smiled again, "Yes, and it's something I'm glad to be able to do.  It suits me better than running a business would have."

"And you can still play your music."

"His disdain for that certainly never stopped me," Roderich paused. "And he acknowledged that I was good at it, encouraged it eventually in his own way I suppose.  That or just finally gave up and decided that he might as well stop fighting it."

"I feel there's plenty who would decide to give up rather than try and change your mind."

Roderich's lips quirked at that, "Perhaps.  I'm not always so stubborn, though."

"I hope that someday you might care enough to be stubborn about me," Sadiq mused, not fully intending to have said it aloud.

Looking briefly startled at that, Roderich studied the other man as he responded, "I think we're well on our way to me being so."

Smile curling around his face again, Sadiq nodded. "Good."

o-o-o

Feliciano pulled up in front of the German House, parking his car and getting out.  He slung the bag that carried his ingredients, and the CD containing the tango music, over his shoulder and carefully lifted the covered painting out of the backseat.  Closing the car door with his hip, he approached the main door of the House and shifted the painting so he could knock.  It was opened a couple of minutes later by Vash who frowned at him, "Yes?"

The Italian offered him a bright smile, "I'm here to see Ludwig.  He's expecting me."

Desperate not to look like he'd been pacing the hallway at the top of the stairs and waiting for the knock, Ludwig smoothed down his already slicked back hair and stepped out. "Feliciano. It's good to see you."

Vash stepped aside as Feliciano entered, the guard closing the door before slipping off.  Feliciano's smile grew wider at the sight of Ludwig, "You too."  He lifted the covered canvas, "I finished the painting. But I think I told you that already.  I brought it." He paused again briefly, "Which you can see...I also brought things to make for dinner too."

“Perhaps bring the painting up and then worry about dinner?" he offered.

Nodding, Feliciano climbed the stairs, stopping when he reached Ludwig's side, "How did it go with the Nords last night?"

"Well," Ludwig said. "Matthias wanted the same things and we had little difficulty working out what we needed to."

"I'm glad."  He paused, looking around the upstairs hall, "Where would you like me to set the painting so you can look at it?  Antonio says they're too personal, though not quite in that many words, and Lovino tends to want to shred the one I did of him so the first look before anything else is usually best in a private-ish room.  And I don't know where that would be for you."

"The office," Ludwig offered. It wasn't the most private room but most people knocked now that Gilbert was gone.

Feliciano offered him another smile, "Lead on.  And then the kitchen?  Dinner might take a little while."

"If you don't mind me being there while you cook I don't mind," Ludwig smiled. There were still dark circles under his eyes but his appearance was otherwise impeccable.

"I hate cooking alone," Feliciano admitted with a laugh, shifting the painting again so he could slip an arm through Ludwig's.  "Are you sleeping alright?"

"So well as I could be," Ludwig said. "Which is not always well."

"And nothing helps?"

"What could?" Ludwig asked, shaking his head.

"I don't know, but you look tired, and, and it can't be good for you."

"You're good for me," Ludwig said instead of commenting on whether he was sleeping enough.

Feliciano blinked at him, surprised enough that he was silent for a long moment, "I'm glad you think so.  I try to be, and I want to be."

Ludwig started and glanced over as he pushed his office door open. "Do you think you are not?"

"I don't know.  I didn't know you before us, so I don't have anything to compare it to.  You think I'm good for you which is what matters, though, right?" He stepped into the office, looking around before deciding that one of the chairs would do for holding the painting.  Slipping his arm from Ludwig's he moved over and set the covered art down on a chair, propping it against the back before removing the cover.

"I'd like to think so," Ludwig said, leaning against his desk and watching Feliciano. Feliciano glanced over his shoulder at the blond, offering him a bit of a smile before stepping back away from the painting, holding the cover in his hands.

The painting itself was done in dark, rich tones, though the subject was well lit.  The primary light sources were a lamp to Ludwig's left and something, perhaps an open door, kitty-corner to it behind the viewer.  The golden light from the lamp and the brighter one from the door cast two shades upon the blond.  His blue eyes caught the second light source and it gave an almost ice-blue shade to them, which was in contrast to the possibility of relaxed gentleness that existed in the way he leaned very slightly against the heavy desk behind him.  The lamp softened the lines that the door sharpened, smoothing and gentling the harsh, cold exterior light.

The background of the painting was almost plain in comparison to the intricacies that were so readily apparent in most of the artist's work.  On closer inspection, however, the bookcases behind the desk had small carvings on the upward supports and each book had been painted separately.  The desk, too, appeared merely utilitarian until one examined it to see the minute carvings.  The papers on it were in neat piles and beyond the lamp and a pen holder the only other item easily visible on the desktop was a framed photograph.  It wasn't large enough to make out details, and was half turned away from the viewer, but it was clearly of Gilbert.

Ludwig's face in the portrait was nearly impassive except for the slightest upward turn of his lips.  His suit was perfectly pressed and expertly tailored, and his shoes shone where they caught the light.  His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, looking natural rather than defensive and if one was only glancing at the portrait they might mistake him as cold or intimidating.

The lines that made up his shoulders were relaxed and softer than his appearance claimed.  Reading glasses were held loosely in his left hand and the corner of a book could be seen behind him.  It was the portrait of a man who was often found at his work, who perhaps worried too much—if the lines on his brow were any indication—and who cared much for his brother.  It was a man who was categorized quickly and often mistakenly because people didn't look past what they saw in the cold white light to the softer contrast offered by the golden glow on his desk.

There was a long moment when Ludwig did not move. "I see what you mean now about private," he managed and smoothed his hair down again, clearly looking for other words.

Feliciano offered him an uncertain look, "Is, is that a good or bad reaction."  He was always unsure with the portraits since Lovino's reaction to the one he'd done of him.

"Yes," Ludwig said clearing his throat. "I mean, I think that's a good one."

"I've been told they're too personal," he murmured, still watching Ludwig carefully.

"That..." Ludwig nodded. "Yes, it rather is."

The Italian brushed his hair back, swallowing, but kept himself from apologizing because he was still proud of the painting, "Would, I can try again if you want?"

"No," Ludwig said quickly. "No it... it's fine. It's just taking me a moment is all."

Feliciano felt himself relax at that answer, "If you point me toward the kitchen I can get started on dinner and let you gather your thoughts again?"

Shaking his head as if to snap out of his thoughts, Ludwig nodded. "Yes that... that would be good. Come on," he said, giving the painting another long look as he walked out and closed the door behind them.

Taking a step and a half for each of Ludwig's steps, Feliciano kept pace with him down to the kitchen, "I probably should have warned you about that one, shouldn't I?"

"It might have been nice," he agreed, still shaking his head to himself. "I wouldn't know where to put it. It seems too arrogant to put a painting of myself in my room."

He hid a smile at that, "Maybe, I mean, it's not...it's not something that has to go on a wall.  I store a large number of the paintings, really.  But," he shrugged, "I don't know."

"But you painted it for me," Ludwig said. "Why wouldn't I put it _somewhere_?"

He shrugged, "People don't always.  I think Antonio said that it's got to do with not wanting their soul put on the wall."

"He's rather astute," Ludwig said, sounding surprised to say that.

"He can be.  He just hides it well usually."

"Indeed he does," Ludwig said and ushered Feliciano into the kitchen. "What do you need?"

Feliciano set his bag down, digging out the ingredients he'd brought, "Two sauce pans and a frying pan."

Ludwig nodded, moving through the kitchen until he found the requested pots and pulled them down.

Considering the ingredients, he glanced at Ludwig offering him a smile as he took one of the saucepans and filled it with water, "Do you have milk and butter and eggs?"

"How much of an uncultured cook do you think I am?" Ludwig laughed. "Of course I have milk and eggs and butter."

"Well, sometimes you catch someone between shopping trips and there isn't much," Feliciano answered with a laugh, withdrawing the meat he'd brought and chopping it up before starting to cook it in the frying pan while the water for the pasta started to boil.  He pulled out an onion and clove of garlic, "Can you dice those for me?"

Ludwig blinked at him, almost looking hurt. "Of course," he said, pulling the food toward him and fetching a knife.

Feliciano glanced at him, pausing, "I don't doubt your abilities in the kitchen, or what you have, I promise."

"I'm most glad of that," Ludwig said, clearly not looking like he entirely believed that as he chopped the garlic and onion into small, regular sized pieces.

The other looked apologetic, but turned back to the stove, making sure the meat wasn't scorching while at the same time getting the pasta started and setting to work on the sauce as well.

"You seem to enjoy this," Ludwig remarked after a few moments of cooking in silence.

"I like making food for other people," Feliciano answered, looking toward him again.  "I just don't get to do it a lot.  I prefer to only do it for one or two others, so it doesn't make much sense to cook for the whole House...I always feel more like I'm working in a restaurant than anything then."

"Well tonight it's just us," Ludwig said, pausing what he was doing to look over.

Feliciano offered him a bright smile, "It is.  I hope you like it."

"I can't imagine that I wouldn't," Ludwig smiled, tilting his head back down to the cutting board. "I do like the painting, you know."

Subtle tension easing from his shoulders, Feliciano's smile softened, "I'm glad."

"It just took me by surprise was all," he added, chopping methodically. "It might take some getting used to seeing."

"I’m beginning to wonder if I should maybe stop doing portraits of people I actually know," Feliciano admitted, taking the meat off the heat and stirring the pasta.

"Because they're so personal?" Ludwig asked.

He nodded slightly, moving to strain the pasta, "They always make the person I've painted uncomfortable.  They're not supposed to, but I can't seem to paint them any other way."

Ludwig hesitated before he moved over, resting a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. "It's a rare gift and a wonderful talent to have. But I think this city is full of people who aren't used to having to look at themselves, or it's dangerous to be so open. We all have wants and desires and dreams we can't have and sometimes it hurts to see. But honestly I'd still love so much to see if you could paint my brother."

Tilting his head back to look up at the other man, Feliciano offered a soft smile at that, "I'd like to paint him, eventually.  Even just knowing what you've told me about him."

The corners of Ludwig's mouth twitched up. "I can't promise it would be easy. He's not good at sitting still."

"I can be patient," Feliciano replied with a quiet laugh.  "I'm also good at quick sketches if I need to."

"Good," Ludwig smiled, hand coming up to brush his thumb along Feliciano's cheek before he blushed and stepped back.

Feliciano offered him another smile, but turned his attention away to mix the carbonara sauce in with the pasta, adding the meat, garlic, and onions to it, "Do you have, say, fresh fruit or something you'd like with this?"

"I'm sure we have something," he agreed, turning away and bustling to the fridge.

Putting the final touches on the dish, Feliciano turned around to watch Ludwig, wondering not for the first time how he was going to convince the other to dance with him.

"Here," Ludwig said, turning around with a plate of fruits. "Is everything ready? Would you like... wine?" he offered, rarely drinking it but knowing there was some somewhere that would pass muster.

Feliciano nodded, "Yes, it's all ready.  And, yes I would, please."

"Give me a moment then," Ludwig said, walking into the pantry and considering. "Do you know if you have a wine preference?" he asked, unsure what to do in the face of several bottles.

"Do you have any sauvignon blanc?"

"Um," Ludwig said and considered. "I have a blanc that's for certain."

Feliciano appeared at the doorway to the pantry, looking past Ludwig to consider the wines before pointing to a white one just to the German's left, "That one should be perfect with the carbonara."

"Alright," Ludwig said, offering him a relieved smile as he pulled down the bottle and found the bottle opener, bringing it and two glasses to the small table in an alcove between the kitchen and the main dining room.

Picking up and carefully balancing the two plates of pasta and the one holding the fruit, Feliciano followed him, setting them down on the table, "I hope this turned out, it's been a while since I've made this recipe."

Looking from the food to the wine and up to Feliciano, Ludwig smiled. "I am certain it will be more than fine."

Feliciano smiled again before ducking his head, "Thank you for having me."

"Whenever you would like, you're welcome," Ludwig replied. "This is wonderful."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, sipping at his wine and watching Ludwig over the edge of the glass.

"To have dinner with someone I enjoy that they cooked themselves?" Ludwig said. "Just the idea is wonderful and you've made the reality such as well."

Feliciano felt his cheeks heat at that, his smile coming as close to shy as it ever did, "I'm still glad."

Blinking over at him, a slow smile curved his mouth. "As am I," he said, sipping the wine and considering it. He often had beer with dinner and it took him a moment to adjust to the taste.

Feliciano took another drink of his wine before setting it down and turning his attention to his meal, "Has, has everything been going well for you?  Or at least most things?"

"Yes," he said. "So well as they can. This is rather odd for me though, I'm not used to eating here."

"Where do you normally eat?"

"In my office," he said. "Otho usually liked the big dining room or out at a club."

Feliciano paused, fork poised halfway to his mouth, "You usually eat in your office?"

"I'm usually working," he said with a tiny shrug. "Gilbert used to bring me food and since I became Head..." he shrugged again.

"Are you at least eating enough?"

"I would like to think so," he said with an easy grin.

Feliciano returned the expression, nodding once, "Good."

"I suppose that must seem rather barbaric to you."

"Don't be silly," Feliciano replied.  "I like food, and I like a lot of it, at regular times.  But I can, sort of, understand."

Ludwig laughed. "Only sort of, of course."

That garnered a grin, "Of course.  Like I said, I like food.  But I don't think it's barbaric to eat while working, or something like that.  I think it detracts from the point of a meal, but that's me."

"When I was a child," Ludwig said finally. "Dinner was when Otho was around. And he always meant business."

Feliciano considered that before nodding, "Grandpa Vargas didn't believe that business and pleasure should overlap.  He always had work before or after dinner, but never during."

"He does not sound like a bad grandfather," Ludwig said after a beat.

"I probably put him on too much of a pedestal, really," Feliciano admitted quietly.

"It's hard not to do that with people you love," Ludwig laughed. "You've heard me talk about Gilbert, haven't you?"

Laughing as well, the Italian nodded, "I have. I look forward to eventually meeting him not at a meet."

"Someday," Ludwig said faintly, looking down at where he'd mostly finished his plate. "Someday I think you will."

"It'll turn out, I'm sure of it," Feliciano spoke quietly, reaching across the table to cover Ludwig's hand with his own.

"You're a very optimistic soul, aren't you?" Ludwig asked with a wry smile.

"I grew up trying to counteract Lovino.  Have you _met_ him?"

"Briefly, at different meets," Ludwig said with a laugh. "He spent most of the meeting glowering at Antonio. I couldn't figure out why."

"That pretty much entirely depends on when you're talking about," Feliciano said with a smile.  "It usually boils down to jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Ludwig asked, arching his brows and pushing his plate aside.

Feliciano picked up his glass to finish his wine, blinking at Ludwig, "I'm sure I've mentioned them being, well, _them_.  Lovino's been jealous of Antonio since we were sixteen."

"That much jealousy just does not seem healthy," Ludwig murmured.

That earned a snort, "It's Lovino.  For the most part his choices tend not to be all that healthy. But Antonio's good for him, when they're not fighting.  And maybe I'm biased but I think he's good for Antonio too."

"I don't know them that well," Ludwig said. "But I hope that's true."

"You and me both," Feliciano nodded, looking at the empty plates. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?"

"No," Ludwig said, shaking his head and finishing the wine in his glass before looking over. "Did you?"

He tugged on a lock of his hair before answering, "I was wondering if you knew how to dance? Or, well, if you'd be willing to let me teach you if not."

"Dance?" Ludwig asked, eyes snapping open.

Feliciano nodded very slightly, "Yes.  Dance."

"What sort of dance?" Ludwig asked finally, still looking unsure.

"A partnered one," Feliciano replied. "Nothing too complex."

"If you're certain," Ludwig said. "I really do have two of the same feet."

"I'm sure," the answer came with a smile as Feliciano got to his feet and held a hand out to Ludwig.

Looking at it warily, Ludwig finally rose and accepted the hand. "Which dance then?"

Once he had Ludwig's hand in his he finally answered with what was mostly an honest answer, "International Tango."

"What?" Ludwig blanched. "The tango? That's hardly a simple dance."

"Basic steps, Ludwig," Feliciano replied, tightening his hand very slightly to keep the other from pulling away.

"Just the basics?" Ludwig asked, trying to relax.

"Just the basics," Feliciano promised.  "The basic step and how to lead a spin or two.  That's all."

"Alright," Ludwig agreed finally. "Just don't let me step on your feet or anything."

"I'm quick on my feet, don't worry," came the quick assurance.  "Is there a room that would work best for this?"

"I have one that might," Ludwig said, and turned. Leading the way, he did not let go of Feliciano's hand.

Upon entering the room, Feliciano looked around, appraising the floor space and the general configuration, "I think this will work wonderfully."

Ludwig shifted again, clearly uneasy. "Are you certain?" he asked again, almost desperate.

"For learning the basic step and a couple of turns?"  Feliciano looked at him before nodding, "It'll be fine."

"Alright," Ludwig said finally. "But I know I don't have any music for this."

"We'll start without music, but I have some," the other man answered.

"You planned this," Ludwig said. "I mean, enough to bring music?"

Feliciano offered him an innocent smile, "Somewhat.  I mean, I hoped you'd agree so I brought things in case you did."

Ludwig sighed and held his hands out. "Alright then. If you really think you must."

"Thank you," Feliciano said, gently correcting Ludwig's hand position before coaching him through the lead's steps.

A frown between his brows, Ludwig tried to follow along, carefully not stepping on Feliciano's feet.

"Relax, you're doing fine," the other assured him, continuing to work through the basic for a few more minutes before giving him the instructions for how to lead a simple follow's spin.

"I don't feel like I'm doing fine," Ludwig admitted, staring in almost horror at where Feliciano was showing him the move.

Feliciano paused, looking at him for a moment, "Does it really bother you as much as that?"

"It's not," Ludwig started and stopped. "I like knowing I can be in control, that I know what I'm doing. I don't with this."

"Growing up must have been hell," Feliciano said before he caught himself.

"What?" Ludwig asked, falling totally out of the dance in shocked.

The Italian paused, looking up at him and deciding that he'd already said that much he might as well continue, "Unless that need showed up recently?  A lot of change and very little control tend to be the rules when growing up."  He hesitated, "And from what you've said of your grandfather he seemed....strict."

"That just meant I needed to know the rules and follow them," Ludwig replied.

Feliciano considered that, nodding very slightly, "I, I suppose I can see that. It still seems like it wouldn't give you much control of your own life at all."

"But it's very controlled," Ludwig replied. "And... everything else isn't."

"But..." Feliciano stopped and shook his head, "Living a little isn't a bad thing, though.  And to do that you need to take a small risk sometimes.  Nothing, nothing dangerous."

"Like the tango?" Ludwig said, giving him a faint smile.

That earned a slight smile, "Yes, like the tango.  Like, like us."

"Well I'm trying," Ludwig said. "It's easier to take a risk on you than it is the tango."

"Well, we don't _have_ to tango," Feliciano said after a moment.

"But you would like to," Ludwig said. "Which means I want to."

"But I don't want you to be too uncomfortable," Feliciano insisted.

"I'll be fine," he said, holding his hand up with new determination.

Feliciano offered him a bright smile, placing his hands in Ludwig's again, "Alright, basic again, we'll just keep with those steps for now."

"Alright," Ludwig agreed. "Thank you. For being patient with me."

"You're doing better than I did when I first started learning," Feliciano admitted, smoothing his movements out so they were bordering on slinking.  "It took me weeks before I could do anything without stepping on my partner."

"I—" Ludwig blinked down at him, trying to breath as he watched Feliciano. "Really? And you wouldn't just say that?"

"Lovino refused to dance with me after the first two days and Antonio ended up limping at one point," the Italian promised.

"Well if you're certain," Ludwig said, trying to make sure his arms were out in the right places.

"I am," Feliciano nodded, "Do you want to try that spin I showed you earlier?"

"I suppose so," Ludwig said, taking a deep breath and stepping back to push his partner out. Feliciano followed the lead smoothly, with perhaps more flair than necessary, his body moving with the spin and he ended up far closer than needed when he was drawn back.

Eyes widening, Ludwig tried to clear his throat. "So that worked then."

The Italian took a half step back as though recovering from moving in too far, though it was still nearer than he'd been through most of the lesson, "Very well, yes.  You're getting the hang of this."

"If you think so," Ludwig managed, watching him as he tried to start the basic step again.

Moving with the hesitant steps, Feliciano offered him a bright smile even as he let himself smooth out the steps and slip a bit closer to Ludwig with the steps, "I do think so.”

"Are you," Ludwig swallowed hard. "Doing that on purpose?"

"What?" Feliciano asked innocently.

"Apparently not," Ludwig said and tried not to think about how close he was.

Feliciano blinked up at him, as aware of his position as he had been of the cotton candy at the carnival.  He added an extra twist of his hips into the next sequence of steps, making sure not to trip Ludwig up as he did so, "Do you want to try it with music?"

Trying not to watch Feliciano and unable to take his eyes away, Ludwig nodded. "If you think that's best."

"I think you're ready," Feliciano nodded, releasing Ludwig's hands and stepping back to rifle through his bag for the cd.  "Do you have a music player in here?"

"Over there," Ludwig gestured to where a player was set in a TV against the wall.

Crossing to it, he put the disc in and flipped through the tracks until he found one that would work while still keeping the steps slow enough that Ludwig would likely be able to keep up.  Having the music made him smile slightly and he all but sashayed over to the German, taking his hands again, "Shall we then?"

"Yes," Ludwig said.

Finding the beat, Feliciano counted it off to give Ludwig a starting place for the basic step, the Italian moving smoothly with the music and taking advantage of it to slip closer every few repeats of the steps.

"You are doing that on purpose," Ludwig decided, watching him closely but he still tried to keep the beat.

Feliciano offered him a smile, "Would you prefer I stopped?"

"I don't know," he said and meant it. "What do you expect of me?"

"I don't _expect_ anything of you," came the reply. "You're just always still so proper about us."

"What do you want?" Ludwig asked, voice dropping even as he stepped closer, hands tightening slightly on Feliciano's.

Feliciano felt his breath catch at that tone, his hazel eyes locked on Ludwig's blue ones, "You."

"And what do you want of me?"

"I, there's so many things to say to that.  I want you to stop worrying that you're crossing a line that we never drew," Feliciano said.

Ludwig raised his hands to cup Feliciano's cheeks, tilting his head back. "And if I drew the line myself? If I thought I needed it to keep you safe? Specifically, Feliciano what do you want of me?"

Feliciano's hands moved to rest at Ludwig's waist, "I want you to kiss me senseless.  I want you to want to take me to your bed.  And I want you to act on that."

For a moment Ludwig didn't move, even as his pupils dilated. "I have wanted that."

"Good," Feliciano murmured before stretching up on his toes to press a kiss to Ludwig's lips. For a moment Ludwig didn't respond before he pressed down, tilting Feliciano's head further back and opening his mouth. Licking his way into Ludwig's mouth, Feliciano reached up to twine his arms around the other's neck.

Groaning, Ludwig dropped his hands to Feliciano's waist. After several moments of battling with his tongue Ludwig suddenly used his grip on Feliciano's waist to pull him upward, taking his feet off the ground and holding him against his body.

Feliciano startled at that, but shifted to brace against Ludwig's shoulders and use the new angle to deepen the kiss even further, one of his hands moving from the German's shoulder to run through his blond hair. Cupping his hands under Feliciano's thighs and hitching his legs up around his waist, Ludwig tilted his head into the touch on his hair. Wrapping his legs around Ludwig's waist and hooking his ankles together, Feliciano drew back just enough to catch a breath before diving back into the kiss.

"Is this better?" Ludwig asked as he leaned back to breath, dragging his mouth over Feliciano's lower lip.

Feliciano nodded, managing a brief, "Yes." His heart was racing and his pupils were blown wide as he tried to catch enough breath to say anything more than that.  He quickly gave that up as a lost cause.

"Good," Ludwig didn't quite growl.

Biting back what was very nearly a moan at that, Feliciano tilted his head down to lightly scrape his teeth along the underside of Ludwig's jaw.

His hands started shaking slightly as he continued holding the other up. "Feli—"

"Mm?"  the smaller man nuzzled against the curve of Ludwig's neck, even as he unhooked his ankles in case he needed to try to stand on his own feet again.

"How serious where you?" Ludwig asked, still holding him up, hands on the back of Feliciano's thighs.

"Completely," Feliciano replied, pulling back just enough to look into Ludwig's eyes again.  "I meant everything I said."

"Even about the bed?" Ludwig asked, voice dropping even further.

Swallowing hard at that tone, he nodded, "E-even that."

Tilting his head over to kiss Feliciano's ear, Ludwig growled again. "Are you certain?"

Feliciano's breath caught with how close Ludwig was to his curl, "Yes."

Stepping forward so he could brace Feliciano against the wall, Ludwig reached a hand up to run through Feliciano's hair, tugging through the curl.

Eyes fluttering shut at that, Feliciano moaned, "D-dio.  Ludwig..."

"God?" Ludwig asked, smirking as he tilted his head back and forth to kiss as much of his face as he could. "Don't give me delusions greater than I might already have."

"W-wouldn't dream of it," Feliciano murmured, raking his fingers through Ludwig's hair and then down his back.

Leaning back, Ludwig watched him, pupils still blown wide. He very carefully and consideringly brought a hand up to drag along Feliciano's curl. Feliciano's lips parted and he tilted his head back against the wall, but not enough to remove the curl from Ludwig's touch.  His eyes fluttered shut and he gasped.

"What did I ever do?" Ludwig asked, clearly to himself as he watched the other. "To get this?"

"C-cared for me," Feliciano managed to answer, opening his eyes again.  His pupils were so dilated that there was only a thin ring of hazel left around them and he didn't hesitate to press a demanding kiss to Ludwig's lips.

"And I do," Ludwig said. "I care so much." He jerked back suddenly, pulling Feliciano with him. He left the music playing, not wanting to take the time to turn it off as he dragged Feliciano out of the room. Locking his legs around Ludwig's waist again to keep himself in place, Feliciano curled his head against the other man's shoulder.  Kissing and nipping at his neck, the Italian grimaced when the shirt collar got in his way and moved one of his hands enough to slide it down a bit.

"Can you wait long enough to let me get down the hallway?" Ludwig asked, sounding breathless even though carrying Feliciano was not that hard.

Feliciano made a noise that could have been anything from protest, to negation, to agreement, but he stopped, simply letting his head rest on Ludwig's shoulder. Hoping beyond hope that no one would see them, Ludwig got Feliciano around the last corner and pressed his back against his door as he fumbled at the handle, desire making his movements clumsy.

They finally made it inside and Feliciano lifted his head enough to take a quick glance around the room, ignoring most of it except exactly how far it actually was to the bed—he would pay more attention later.

"It's not a very large bed," Ludwig said, even as he dropped Feliciano onto it.

"Just enough room for us," Feliciano replied, pulling the blond down with him.

Ludwig went easily, bracing his hands on either side of Feliciano's head. "Yes," he agreed, noses touching. "Enough room for us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon of course being Hong Kong because his life is complicated.


	21. What a Lovely Wedding Ring

Feliciano woke from a doze, draped over Ludwig and blinked almost blearily at the clock.  His hazel eyes widened and he pushed back, stretching to try and reach his pants without actually getting off the bed.

Snapping awake, Ludwig leaned over, running a hand over Feliciano's back. "What is it?"

"Lovino's going to be out of his mind," Feliciano replied, finally catching hold of his pants and dragging them over, going through the pockets until he found his phone.

"Are you calling him?" Ludwig asked, voice still rough from sleep.

Feliciano checked his phone, biting his lips at the increasingly irate texts he had from Lovino, "Yes, sort of."  He quickly dialed Antonio's number, cradling the phone against his shoulder and playing with Ludwig's hair absently.

Ludwig made a contented sound and curled up around Feliciano's waist. On the other side of the line, Antonio fumbled his phone for a while before hitting the accept call button. "Yes?"

"Antonio, it's Feli," the younger man said. "Would you tell Lovino that I'm alive and perfectly fine?"

"You're not willing to do it yourself?" Antonio asked, shoving his hair back from where he had stepped out of the shooting range.

"Based on the texts I have on my phone?  I wouldn't be off the phone until dawn and I have other things I'd rather do," Feliciano smiled down at Ludwig, curling a lock of blond hair around his finger before smoothing it down again.

"I'm sure you do," Antonio said. "Which is why I'm at the gun range with him at three in the morning."

"Thank you," Feliciano said.  "I'll be home tomorrow."

"You'd better be," Antonio said. "But you might consider walking in with earplugs."

"I'll pick some up on my way back," he replied.  "I'm going to go back to bed now.  Good night, Antonio."

"Good morning rather," Antonio said, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Maybe he'll finally calm down," Feliciano offered, still finger-combing Ludwig's hair.  "I'll see you later in the morning then."

Antonio laughed, sounding weary. "Congrats, by the way, on your seduction. See you when you're home."

Feliciano grinned, "Thank you."  He hung up, sliding back down to curl around Ludwig again.

o-o-o

Lovino looked away from his target when Antonio entered again, "Who was that?"

"Your brother. He says hi and sorry and he'll be home tomorrow," Antonio said, running a hand through his hair again.

"Tomorrow?" Lovino set the gun down, frowning as he turned to fully face his lover.

"Today," Antonio amended. "But I really hope to get some sleep between now and then."

"He's safe, though?"

"He is," Antonio assured. "Can you please stop shooting things now?"

Looking toward the target, the third one he'd been through, Lovino nodded and holstered the gun, "I'll need to clean this in the morning."

"It is the morning," Antonio said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

"You know what I mean," Lovino muttered, eying the other man.

"When we act like it is the next day," Antonio said. "But now please come to bed." Lovino nodded, the line of his shoulders sagging as he finally let his weariness creep in. Reaching forward, Antonio ran a hand through Lovino's hair. "He really worried you, didn't he?"

Leaning into the touch and letting his eyes drift shut, he finally nodded, "I don't...I don't like not knowing where he is.  I've always been there to watch out for him, you know?"

"I don't think Ludwig is the type to enjoy an audience," Antonio said, carding his fingers through Lovino's hair.

Lovino tensed again at that, "No.  But it would have been nice to know Feli was safe.  Or as safe as he can be walking himself into another House."

"He drove," Antonio said, feeling difficult.

That earned him a tired glare, "Damn it, you know what I meant."

"I did," Antonio agreed, rubbing a hand over his head. "That doesn't mean I'm all that interested in being agreeable at the moment." He paused a beat and sighed again. "I'm sorry."

Lovino looked away, but nodded, "It's fine.  We should get to bed."

"Yes," Antonio said, sounding even more exhausted. "Please come upstairs."

His lover paused before nodding again and moving to follow Antonio out of the range and up to the room they all but shared, "Sorry about dragging you downstairs."

"It's fine," Antonio said automatically. "Alright, no, it's not fine, but you felt like you needed to let off some steam."

"Which isn't really an excuse for keeping you up ‘til three in the shooting range," Lovino said, cutting a sidelong glance at him.

Sighing, Antonio ran a hand through his hair. "No, it's really not. You have to let your brother grow up and move on in life at some point, you know. There are far more dangerous people to do it with."

Lovino bit back his first three responses and finally just nodded, "He likes him, and the German seems to like him too.  And wouldn't let him get hurt in his own House, but it doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"But that's the thing, you don't have to be," Antonio said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and watching him. "He's happy for you, you know."

Lovino shrugged out of his shirt, looking slightly guilty at that, "I know he is."

"I know you aren't happy with Ludwig," Antonio said. "But can't you try?"

"I'll try," Lovino murmured in answer as he moved over to join Antonio on the bed. "That's all I can promise."

"Good," Antonio said, flopping backward from where he was sitting, spreading his arms out and sighing, shuffling backward until his legs were off the floor.

Lovino slipped between the sheets, waiting for Antonio to join him before curling next to him, "What time do we need to be up tomorrow?"

"I don't want to think about it," Antonio said. "We're meeting Ms. Eva at eight though." He said the name with some scorn and shook his head.

His guard lay back, muttering another apology, "Sorry we've been up so late."

"It'll be fine," Antonio said, running a hand along Lovino's spine and rolling onto his back.

Lovino arched sleepily at that touch and rested his head against Antonio's chest, right over his heart, "I hope so.  Good night, Antonio."

"Good night," Antonio sighed, earlier plans in the evening about a romantic night spent with no distractions long since crashed and burned.

o-o-o

Kiku paced his room, he'd checked his phone when he'd first entered the room and it was now hidden away again.  He would have preferred to have it out, but he knew at least half of the House was still wide awake and active regardless of the late hour. 

Deciding that he was doing little more than driving himself mad staying in his room, he slipped out of the chamber, striding through the halls.  His usual impassive expression slipped into a faint smile when he saw someone up the hall, "Mei."

"You know you're not supposed to be up at this hour," she said, glancing back at him and straightening from where she had been shifting boxes out of the storeroom to prepare for her meeting with Yao in the afternoon.

He shrugged, moving over to help her, "I couldn't sleep. I thought I might as well not sleep outside of my room rather than inside it."

"Walls feeling a bit too close?" she asked, pushing her hair back.

"Yes, something like that." Kiku shook his head, "Yao wants me to stay around the house more."

"You have been gone an awful lot," she said, shifting the last of the boxes and opening the top, considering the old artwork inside it.

"I've been taking pictures again.  There's just, I get bored if I stay here too long.  It can be so suffocating," Kiku said quietly, looking over her shoulder at the art.

"I've never understood why he has such a large collection if he never displays them," she said and glanced sideways at Kiku. "You could always frame some of your photos."

"I think he just likes to know they're there," he answered, considering the art and pointing at one of them. "I do like that one."

"I'd say you should take it," she said. "And actually put it somewhere but he can be rather... attentive to these things."

"Well, maybe eventually he'll agree to display at least some of them," Kiku sounded like he didn't believe a word of it.

"Certainly," she agreed. "Yet he still makes an inventory of them every few months."

"He really ought to sell some of these things."

"It would bring us so much money," she laughed. "I suppose we have enough though. Have you ever thought about selling your photos? Some of them would fetch a great price."

He shrugged very slightly, "I don't know if they're all that good.  Who'd buy them, anyway?"

She shrugged. "We seem to have a market for art works. Just don't sign them. Maybe the English even would by mistake," she laughed.

Kiku managed a quiet laugh at that somehow, thinking of one specific member of the English House that would like his photographs, "Maybe so.  I could certainly see about it at least."

"It would give you something else to focus on," she said, poking his chest. "You need that."

"I have plenty to focus on, Mei," he replied, offering a twitch of his lips that served as a smile.

"But do you have something to focus on outside the house that makes _you_ , rather than Yao, happy?"

"I..." he paused and shrugged, "Anything I have is effectively curtailed by being required around the House for the majority of my time."

"Then you need something," she said, nodding like she had decided on it and the rest of the world would find a way to agree.

"My photography is about areas outside of the territory though," Kiku protested.

"Exactly," she said brightly. "Which is why you should do it more."

He rubbed his right eyebrow, "When I'm not doing what Yao wants, I'll look into it."

"Good," she said, running a hand over her hair. "You need to get more rest too, you know."

"I'll simply reply with the fact that I'm not the only one wandering the halls at three in the morning."

She laughed. "Except I don't live with nearly the pressure you do. And I know how to relax!"

"I rest," he protested, but offered her a bit of a smile nevertheless.

"Do you relax?" she asked. "Do you know how to let loose and live a little yet, Kiku?"

His mid flickered to kissing Alfred in the church but he shrugged, "I think so."

Mei arched a brow. "Really?"

"I don't do it much, but yes.  I am able to relax."

"I'll believe that when I see it," she said, leaning over to poke his chest again. "For now though, you should go sleep."

"I already said I couldn't sleep," he reminded.  "You should get some rest yourself."

"Well, we could play cards until you fall asleep on the table," she said finally.

Kiku actually smiled at that, "I'd enjoy that."

"I'll get the deck."

o-o-o

"It's good to see you," Eva said, tapping out a cigarette.

"No, it's not," Antonio said across the table, watching her light it, drawing attention to her mouth and the bright red of her short fingernails.

"You're right," she grinned, putting her lighter back in her jean pocket. "It's never good to see you. But business is business."

Lovino glanced between the Heads and then looked at the woman Eva had brought with her.  Carmen sat to Eva's left, her dark curls swept up and back away from her face. Dark eyes glancing toward Eva, Carmen hesitated, knowing that negotiations with the Roman House needed to go well if things were to continue smoothly, "And business can be beneficial to both parties if agreements can be reached."

Antonio glanced over at her and back to Eva, who was pulling in a lung full of smoke and blowing it back out. "Yes," he agreed. "Agreements can be quite beneficial."

"But only if both parties adhere to them," she returned.

"Are you implying that I wouldn't honor my agreements?" Antonio asked, voice dropping dangerously low.

"An agreement has to be made in such a way that both parties wouldn't break it, too," Lovino said, sending a glance toward Antonio and really hoping that this meet went smoothly.  He felt guilty about keeping the other man up until an inhuman hour when they had to be up for this particular meet.

"How astute of you," Eva drawled, looking over at him with an unimpressed look. Her eyes darted down as Antonio tensed at her comment. Before he could snarl anything about respect, she darted forward to pluck Lovino's right hand off the table and hold it up. "Why, what a lovely wedding ring."

Lovino fell very still at that, blinking at her twice and drawing his hand back, lying smoothly even as he felt his mind slip into panic, "It was my grandfather's."

Carmen's eyes widened and she darted her gaze from Antonio to Lovino's hand and back.

The line of Antonio's shoulders tightened and he carefully did not move. "Really?" Eva asked. "I never saw him wear it."

"He wasn't much given to jewelry.  He kept it in a box in his room after Grandmother died, but he would take it out sometimes.  It came to me when he passed," Lovino replied steadily.

"Of course," she said. "He must have had pierced ears as well."

"I'm not my grandfather.  I wear the ring in his memory.  The earring is evidence I'm my own person," Lovino said with a faint shrug.

"And your boss has nothing to do with this?" she asked, smiling still like the cat with the cream.

"What could I possibly have to do with it?" Antonio asked, also affecting that he was calm.

"They're both gold," Eva said.

"I didn't even notice.  I liked the look of the earring better than other options," Lovino managed a shrug.

Carmen drew a deep breath, knowing she had a phone call to place once they left the meet.  She needed to offer a word of advice to a man she knew.

"Of course," Eva agreed, leaning back and tapping her long fingers on the edge of the table. "That's all there is to it."

Lovino fell silent, offering her a frown.  Carmen cut in, speaking liltingly, "We were here to discuss business, I believe?"

Eva did not say that this could be business, only nodded and leaned back. "I expect you'll want certain things."

"Gold, usually," Antonio agreed.

"Borders stay where they are?" Eva demanded and he nodded.

"This isn't a territory grab."

Carmen folded and unfolded the napkin in front of her, watching Lovino and Antonio quietly as she listened to the Heads talk.  Lovino had receded, arms crossed as he watched Eva and the motion looked almost defensive.

Trading pointed barbs back and forth as they negotiated for gold, supplies, and protection from each other. Finally they seemed to have reached an agreement and Antonio leaned back. "I assume you'll want this all in writing?"

"Of course," she agreed. "I'll send Ricardo for it in a few days."

"Ricardo?" Antonio said, almost a scoff. "You'd trust him not to forget?"

The line of Eva's mouth tightened. "He's calmed down recently."

"Doing slightly less drugs?" Antonio asked, tone sweet and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Our business here is done?"

Lovino pushed his chair back from the table, but waited for Antonio before rising.  Carmen glanced at Eva, her own gaze having hardened at the questions about Ricardo.

"It's done," Antonio said, standing. "I'll be sure that the terms are drawn up. Try not to get shot on your way out."

Lovino rose, following Antonio out but remaining silent until they had nearly reached the car.  His voice was steady but almost dangerously quiet, "Can you drive?"

"Sure," Antonio said, glancing over. "Are you alright?"

The guard swallowed and nodded quickly once, "Yes, fine."

Antonio almost asked if Lovino was sure before he just nodded and slid into the driver's seat, carefully guiding them home. Lovino stared out the window for the entire drive, his forehead resting against the glass, only straightening when they finally reached the House.  "Fuck," his voice was shaky and his eyes were unfocused.

Looking over, Antonio swallowed before getting out of the car and moving around to open Lovino's door. "Come on," he said softly. "Get inside."

Tensing at that, Lovino stepped out of the car and turned for the house with barely a glance at Antonio, "Fuck.  Antonio she _knew_.  Of all people!"

"She guessed," Antonio said, and put a hand on the small of Lovino's back, rushing him up toward their room.

"Which is almost as bad," Lovino yelped, whirling to face him once the door to the room was closed behind them.

"But she doesn't know," Antonio said. "Not for certain."

"But she suspects!"

"Lovino," Antonio said quietly, cupping his face with his hands. "Please. Don't."

Lovino started to pull away, his breath coming rapidly, "How can I not?"

Carefully not sighing, Antonio reached forward again and dragged Lovino against his chest, his chin pressed above the crown of his head.

Pressing his hands against Antonio's chest, Lovino pushed half-heartedly, "Antonio..."

"It's a problem," he agreed. "But people already knew and we knew it would be dangerous. So we'll just keep being careful."

"How careful can we possibly be?" Lovino yelped.

"As careful as we can," he said faintly. "That's all we can do."

"And, and when the other Houses put it together as well?" He tilted back enough to look up at his lover.

"I don't know," he said. "I'm sure we'll find out when it happens."

Lovino's expression slipped further toward panic again, before he swallowed hard and nodded.

"At this point there's no reason Eva would come after us," Antonio said. "We don't have a truce but a mutually beneficial agreement and there's no reason to break that."

"And when that does break?  Or when someone finds out who would take advantage of it?"

"Then we kill them if we have to," Antonio said. "We've been over this before, haven't we?"

Lovino nodded very slightly before burying his face against Antonio's chest again, "Yes, we, we have."

"But something's got you really worked up about this," Antonio said, hands stroking along Lovino's hair.

"It's the Latins," he answered, as though that should explain it.  "Agreement or no, it's still the Head of the Latin House."

"They've never been able to hurt us before," Antonio said, voice suddenly harsh. "They may hate me but they cannot touch us."

Lovino pushed away from him, eyes flashing, "Except for that shooting a few weeks ago."

The corners of Antonio's mouth twitched. "Alright," he agreed. "Except for that. Lovino, I'll protect you with everything I have."

"Don't you dare," Lovino growled.  "If you go getting stupid about protecting me it makes me a pretty damn awful bodyguard."

"I'd still rather protect you than lose you," he said instead.

"Then we'd better both be careful," the younger man murmured, jaw tensing.  "Because I can't lose you either."

"Then we'll both be hideously, horribly careful."

Lovino drew a steadying breath before nodding and leaning up to kiss Antonio. Sighing, Antonio stroked Lovino's hair, kissing him slowly. Parting his lips slightly, Lovino twined his arms around Antonio, clinging to him.

o-o-o

Resisting the urge to bang his head against the door—it required too much motion and was hardly dignified—Sigurd knocked instead. "Are you in there? Are you pouting again?"

Eirik's voice drifted through the wood from where he was curled up, the book he was reading resting against his knees, "I don't pout like some, some child."

"You haven't convinced anyone of that yet," Sigurd said. "Can I open the door?"

"It's not locked," was the only reply as Eirik turned his attention back to his book.

Sigurd did not sigh again as he pushed the door open, glancing around the room. "I see you already filled the bookcase."

"I had enough books that didn't fit on my last one," Eirik replied, violet eyes rising from the page he was reading.  His back rested against his headboard and although the overhead light was on, he was mostly relying on the lamp by the bed.  "Is there something you want?"

Sigurd shrugged. "I don't know. Wanted to see how you were, I suppose."

"Fine.  You worry too much," came the response as he finally reached for his bookmark and closed the volume around it.

"Which is sometimes justified," he pointed out, leaning against the door.

"Not always though.  What did I do to worry you this time?"

"The fact you spend all your time locked away in here?" he offered, still leaning against the door. "You've barely talked to anyone in a month. What's got you so bothered?"

"Nothing," Eirik answered, glancing toward Sigurd and squinting very slightly because he'd left his contacts out for the day again.

"I will stand here between you and the door for as long as I need to," Sigurd said, tone mild.

"Why don't you go hover over Mathias?  I'm fine, just don't really want to be out."

"I think Berwald has the hovering over Matthias duty covered for a while," he said, as he had noticed that something had changed between the two but not coming close to asking about it.

Eirik grimaced at that, reaching for his book again, "Why can't you be oblivious and go on about your day?"

"Because I'm stubborn," Sigurd said. "And I've been trying to give you enough time to figure it out on your own."

"There's nothing to figure out," Eirik nearly snapped.

"Then stop being a moody child."

"I'm not a child!" He sat bolt upright, eyes narrowing.

"Moody little bitch?" Sigurd offered, tone still mild.

Eirik growled at that, "It's not your business."

"Then it should be easy to tell me," Sigurd said, watching him. "If it has nothing to do with me, I can easily listen. If it does have something to do with me, it is my business."

He scowled in response before pushing himself off the bed to dig through the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out the paper holding the blood test results he'd sent away for.  He shoved the paper toward Sigurd, "Fine.  If you really want to know."

"A blood test?" Sigurd asked, not looking further once he figured that out. "Why would you bother with something like that?"

"Because I was curious, alright?  I'm tired of not know if any of us are related or not and, and I was curious," he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"None of us really know," Sigurd said. "It's never mattered to us who's related to who and who's not because we're family anyway. We're the smallest house in the whole city and when..." he paused. "The last war nearly wiped us out."

"I know all that," Eirik replied, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "And there were so few people left that any children got split up depending on which households could take care of them.  It doesn't mean I didn't wonder a bit."

"Why does it matter so much to you that we may or may not be related by blood?" Sigurd asked. "What matters is that we are family." He thought about Berwald and Matthias for a moment. "Possibly a vaguely incestuous family, but a family."

Eirik stared at him for a long moment before he shrugged, trying to play it off as less than it was, "Because it does."

"You're my family no matter what a sheet of paper say," he said, waving the test in question before pausing and actually looking over the sheet, reading past the first few lines.

Sitting back down on the bed, Eirik looked away, "Yeah."

Sigurd leaned further back. "Except this does say you're my brother."

The younger man glanced at him and then away, nodding, "It does, yeah."

"Is," Sigurd started, emotions on thin ice. "Is that not what you wanted then?"

Eirik looked at him for a long moment, expression unreadable, "I, I don't know." It was nice to know he had an actual brother, but he had really been holding out hope that it wasn't Sigurd.

"Why not?" Sigurd asked, voice faint. "Is this so bad that you avoid me?"

"No, no that's not what I meant," Eirik said before he could think about it, eyes widening.  It was the first time he regretted not wearing his contacts in a while with Sigurd across the room and out of focus because of it.

"But you have been avoiding me," Sigurd said. "And this is why?"

"I, yes. I mean, I sent away for it and now I have the results and," he fell silent for a moment, shaking his head and drawing his knees up.  "And I think I shouldn't have."

"Why not?" Sigurd asked, finally stepping closer.

Eirik shrugged, "I don't know.  I just think it was maybe better not knowing."

"So it does bother you," Sigurd said and stopped moving forward.

"No, not really.  It just seems, final, to know."

"There's very little in life that's final," Sigurd said with a small shrug. "I suppose it depends on how you consider blood."

"What do you mean by that?" Eirik watched him cautiously.

"If you think blood is the final say in relationships," Sigurd said, moving over to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked over at Eirik and frowned. "You should wear your contacts."

"I don't like them," Eirik replied.  "And like you said I've barely left my room so I didn't need them."

"You should still wear them," he said. "It's better for your eyes."

Eirik frowned, "My eyes are fine.  I'm being careful."

Sigurd considered him and then nodded, looking away from the other.

"You worry too much," Eirik murmured, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees.  "You'll go grey."

"With my hair?" Sigurd laughed. "I might as well already be grey. God knows our family has enough worry to go around."

"Your hair's darker than mine," Eirik replied with a faint twitch of his lips.

Sigurd looked over at him with a faint smile. "You're hair's lighter than anyone's. You don't even have to worry about going grey."

Eirik managed another hint of a smile at that, "Not like the rest of you need to worry too much about it.  It'll fade more than grey after all."

"I'd rather know you're happy than worry about grey hairs," Sigurd shrugged.

"I am happy.  I'm just...having confusion over the test is all."

"What sort?" Sigurd asked, leaning back. "Though I admit that it's an odd thought to adjust to."

"Mostly, mostly just that," Eirik said with a quiet shrug.

"I would hope it wouldn't be to appalling a thought."

He shook his head, "No, it's not.  I just didn't know what to expect."

"Then why did you do the test?" Sigurd asked. "If the results were going to bother you this much?"

"I didn't know they would," Eirik protested.  "I thought that it would help somehow."

"And it didn't," Sigurd said, not even a question. "What can help?"

"Nothing," came the answer.  "I'll be fine."

"Please let me help you," Sigurd said softly.

Eirik drew a deep breath before looking Sigurd in the eye, "There's nothing you can do to help, Sigurd."

For a long moment Sigurd returned the look before finally nodding. "Alright."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Eirik looked away again, "Thank, thank you though."

"I'm always here for you," Sigurd said, pushing himself to his feet. "Because I think that's what family is really about."

That earned a smile tinged with something that Eirik refused to define, "Yeah.  Family."

"Family means a lot of things," Sigurd said. "Not just what people think in books like this," he said, tapping the cover of the book Eirik had been reading.

He paused for a long moment before finally managing to start the sentence in his mind, "'Brothers' though tends to only have a few meanings."

Sigurd shrugged. "Is it really so odd or different from what we've always acted like?"

"No, not really."

"Isn't it?" Sigurd asked with a frown.

"It isn't, you're right," Eirik clarified what he'd said before.  "It just means we're actually related in addition, is all."

Sigurd frowned finally but he shook his head and offered Eirik another smile. "I'm glad you like the bookcase," he said, retreating back to the door.

Eirik managed a final smile, "It's a good bookcase.  Thank you."

"I hope you figure it out," Sigurd said, opening the door. "I mean what's been bothering you."

"I will," he murmured, watching Sigurd leave and cursing his need to know whether they were actually blood relatives.  His feelings were easier to deal with when he didn't know.

o-o-o

Most of Kiku's focus was on his computer as he went through the photographs he had taken in recent months.  He carefully sorted the ones of churches into their own separate folder, before thinking better of singling them out and proceeding to do so with each category of photo he had.  He probably should have been paying far more heed to the room he was in, seated as he was on a couch in one of the more public rooms of the house.

"That's a lot of churches," Leon said behind him. "Yao wouldn't much approve."

Kiku startled at that, looking up, "They have interesting architecture."

Leon hummed at that answer and moved to sit across the room, flipping open a book.

Eyes following the motion, Kiku paused, looking toward the doorway and then back at Leon, "What are you reading?"

"Something Yao would disapprove of," he answered with a small shrug.

That earned a faint quirk of the heir's lips, "Have you considered not doing things he would disapprove of?"

"Have you?" Leon returned, not moving his head but lifting his eyes enough to watch the door while still appearing to be reading.

"I do many things Yao approves of," Kiku replied calmly.

"Of course you do," Leon said, gaze flickering back down to his book as he expected that would be the end of the conversation."

He glanced toward the door before speaking again, still sorting photographs, "It would probably be easier for you to just do as he wanted.  Why don't you?"

Leon looked up again, the motion as small as it had been before. "Do you make your choices because they're easier, or because it's what you have to do to be you?"

Kiku weighed his words carefully as he spoke, "It depends on the choice.  Some things are not worth fighting with him about."

"Perhaps I think they are," Leon said. "No matter how small that may seem to you."

"It is all in one's perspective I suppose," Kiku murmured, looking at the pictures of the church where he and Alfred had first kissed.  He had gone back a few days after to actually photograph it.

"I suppose," Leon agreed. "It's the little things that make us who we are, not the grand gestures."

"Grand gestures are far more dangerous to make, too," came the quiet response as he moved on from the church pictures to look over some from a park in the neutral zone.

"They're more obvious," Leon agreed.

"Even if they're not, if one was to be caught in one it would go badly."

"Because they're obvious they make you more likely to be caught," Leon replied and his eyes narrowed over the top of his book. "Why would it matter to you anyway?"

Kiku shrugged, "Just musing, is all."

Leon snorted and looked back down at his book.

Kiku glanced toward the doorway, listening for a long moment before asking quietly, "If you could go back, would you?"

Leon's gaze snapped up. "That's a very dangerous question."

Kiku paused before nodding, "Yes."

"Then why are you asking it?"

Listening carefully for another long minute he answered, "Because I'm tired of the animosity between our House and theirs."

There was a very long moment when Leon did not move. "What?"

Kiku looked at him over the top of his computer, "Do you honestly want me to repeat that?"

Leon shook his head quickly, leaning further back. "Why?" he asked instead. "We're different Houses, it's right enough that we fight is it not?"

Kiku paused before closing his computer and rising, "I have more photographs I want to take.  Would you accompany me?"

Leaning back, Leon considered him for a long moment before he finally nodded and stood. "Alright."

Kiku closed his computer, stashing it and picking up his camera to put some truth to their excuse.  Once they were out of the House and several blocks away he spoke simply, "I think the level to which we fight with the English House is too based in personal vendettas between the Heads."

"Yes," Leon agreed. "They fight because they must but the fury is something that should never have been brought into this."

"It's one thing to be at odds with another House and another to take it to such a personal level," Kiku shook his head before taking a picture of one of the facades.  "It's a war waiting to happen."

"Vengeance makes things messy," Leon said, hands in his pockets as he looked straight ahead. "We say governments today are legitimate because they are rational. The only reason this city stays together is because we've turned gang violence into something just as rational. What Yao and Arthur have is not rational." He hunched his shoulders slightly, guilt curling in his stomach.

"If it hadn't been over you, it would have been something else," Kiku said, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.  "I just don't want to see us caught up in an actual war.  The Germans and Russians have been balanced long enough that I do not think they will actually go to war, but that may be wishful thinking."

"They're just waiting for the next thing to happen," Leon said. "The Germans and Russians. It's a truce where they're holding their breath not peace." He looked away again, not willing to agree that it had not been his fault, whether he had done anything or not.

"No, it is a long way from peace, but it's also not all out war yet.  A few skirmishes, like there have been for years, but," he shook his head.  "I don't know. I just know, at the moment, I'm more concerned with how much could go wrong if we go to war with the English."

"And what could go wrong?" Leon asked.

Kiku fell completely still for a brief moment, "A loss of both Heads, possibly the heirs as well, depending on how it goes."

"And that would take you out, wouldn't it?" Leon asked, looking over. "So is your own skin really your concern or is there something else?"

"What do you remember of the English House's heir?"

"Alfred?" Leon asked, stopping and looking over with a frown.

Kiku nodded, taking another picture to give himself an excuse not to look at Leon.

"That's an odd question," Leon said, shaking his head slightly. "He was loud and an idiot. I remember that he hated schoolwork when he had to do it, and that he somehow thought he still was a hero even though he knew as well as anyone that there are no heroes in a place such as this."

"I just, I don't think facing him would be something I would want to do.  It would come to that at some point, I'm sure, and as you said, he seems to have a hero complex."

"You said you were worried about the heirs," Leon said, crossing his arms over his chest and still watching Kiku. "Why are you asking me these things now?"

"Your word that no one hears anything from this conversation," Kiku demanded.

"I think we're already far past that," Leon murmured.

"Miles past it," Kiku agreed before hesitating again.  "I've been meeting with Alfred for months.  It was, it was originally official meetings."

Leon blinked once and did not move for several moments. "I assume they aren't official anymore then," he said. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"You're not surprised?"  He blinked at Leon, " _I_ was surprised."

"Alfred has a magnetic personality," Leon said. "And you are rather quiet and reserved. It was bound to happen when you started interacting."

Kiku paled slightly at that, "I really hope that's not obvious to anyone else."

Leon shrugged slightly. "Who else knows the two of you?" he asked and turned away again. "Besides, I never would have assumed it until you asked about him."

"Well, Matthew found out," Kiku admitted.

"Because he followed Alfred?" Leon asked, not making it much of a question at all.

Kiku's lips quirked at that and nodded, "Yes, and then he quoted Romeo and Juliet at us."

Leon's mouth curled up and his eyes were laughing. "At least he did not have time to get through the entire play." He paused, arms still crossed over his chest as he looked around the street. "It is an apt comparison."

"Except that we are doing our best not to die, nor to let anyone we care about die as well," Kiku responded.

"Of course you are," Leon said. "At least you aren't so wrapped around yourselves to see that." He leaned over, and tapped the top of Kiku's camera. "There aren't any pictures of him on here, are there?"

Kiku's eyes widened and he took a half step back, "Of course not.  I would not be that foolish."

"Good," Leon said, leaning back.

Kiku took a few more pictures before sighing, "We ought to return to the house."

Leon shrugged, spreading his hands out as he continued walking. "We're already out of the house. It seems like there's plenty on your chest."

"Yao suspects.  He doesn't know, but he suspects I'm lying to him," Kiku murmured.

"Have you assured him?" Leon asked.

"Yes. After all, I spend most of my time away from the House doing exactly as I told him I do."

"Taking photos?" Leon asked, a laugh hiding in his voice.

Kiku's lips quirked upward at that, "Well, and seeing to business and satisfaction of the people in the territory."

"Are they quite satisfied?" Leon asked.

"From what they've been willing to tell me," Kiku answered.  "If they weren't, I would have to tell Yao, now wouldn't I?"

"Are you satisfied?" Leon asked, hands deep in his pockets as he moved, always scanning the street.

Glancing around briefly, Kiku finally shook his head, "No."

"I didn't think so," Leon said. "If you could—which you can't—what would you change?"

"I'd seek an alliance with the English House, and work on neutrality pacts or alliances with the other Houses as well.  Within the territory?  I would see if it was possible for a slightly more open discussion with the suppliers, to see if there was an agreement that could be reached so that we don't keep coming up against the same problems from the same group over and over," he shook his head, looking around at the buildings as they passed.  "I do not want to inherit this House in its current state."

"But then you could change it," Leon said. "Yao won't change."

"Which is what I'm relying on.  The opportunity to change it.  He sends me to deal with the suppliers and it gives me the chance to speak with them, to find if there is anything that can be done within the current constraints.  Hopefully, by the time I am in a position to change things, they will be willing to come to me about that as well."

"And Alfred?"

"That is a far more difficult question to answer," Kiku replied.

"Oh I know," Leon said with another small smile. "But I'd like to hear it. And it seems like you could use someone to get it off your chest."

Kiku's mouth twisted and he considered how to begin to answer that, "He's, he’s unpredictable.  We are both heirs now, but the cost of coming to power may be too much.  There wouldn't be much for either of us to do if the Houses aren't agreeable to an alliance, not right after coming to power at least.  I fear he is too reckless in his decisions, should he come to his position before I do.  At the same time? I have never felt so willing to take risks as I do when I think of him."

"That's quite the compliment," Leon said, voice lowering in shock. "Coming from you. To be willing to take risks for someone."

"He is worth taking risks for," Kiku said quietly.

Leon stopped walking to face him again. "Are you certain?"

Turning to face Leon, Kiku nodded, "Yes. He, it is hard to put into words."

"You could risk your life, his life, and everyone in between over this," Leon said. "You sound like you're in love with him. Are you certain he feels the same?"

"I find myself certain of very little as regards Alfred, but," he paused and nodded, "but that I am certain of."

Leon arched a brow and turned his head away. "I remember a day when he actually informed me emotions were annoying and he didn't want to deal with them. Matthew started miming him going ew emotions and they got into a fight."

"He, he does not express emotions very well, but I am not one to say anything in that regard.  I know how he feels about me, and that is what matters."

"Does he know about how you feel about him?" Leon asked and pointed to a building as they walked. "Have you ever taken a photo of that one?"

"I believe he does," Kiku replied, considering the building Leon had indicated before taking a few pictures of it. "He knows what I would risk for him, at least."

Leon laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just so funny that it's you two fumbling around. If he dared to tell you, you might consider taking that risk." He shrugged, holding his hands up. "I mean, it's not like you two could be risking more."

Kiku managed a faint smile at that, "You mean beyond everything we are and everything we have?  No I cannot imagine we have more to risk."

"So hey, might as well throw in some emotional risk," Leon said with another shrug.

"Your advice is accepted, though we've not spoken much before this," Kiku said with a quirk of his lips.

"That's because you never had much to say," Leon said. "And I suppose I didn't either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, welcome to another chapter! A special shout out to our wonderful reviewers and a happy birthday to VS. Her birthday is this weekend and I figured I'd see about updating this before then. Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Eva is Argentina and named after Eva Peron (More commonly known as Evita) because though the Peron leadership had many issues (military rule for instance), Eva is one of the most recognizable names from the country. (And of course the musical Evita, which is historically hilarious but of course not the whole story, made her all the more well known). Carmen is Brazil and Ricardo is Colombia (named after one of my favorite professors of history who is from Colombia. It may not be the most flattering tribute to name a gangster country after him but there you go). (Thus the references to drugs and he's not as violent as he used to be).


	22. Don't be Such a Fucking Coward

Once again staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head, Gilbert frowned when he heard someone knock on the door. Dropping his feet to the ground he pushed himself off the bed, opening the door himself for the first time since he woke up there.

He blinked at the sunflowers presented to him, Ivan standing behind them. “So not running,” he said, taking the flowers and considering them.

“It wouldn’t really get either of us anything,” Ivan said and his eyes looked alarmingly sharp compared to his usual vacant expression and it made Gilbert swallow hard. He fumbled the flowers onto the bedside table and looked at Ivan again. “Would you like to take a walk?” Ivan asked. “You never were given a tour.”

Gilbert blinked in surprise but nodded quickly before Ivan could change his mind. “Yeah, that would be awesome. Not as awesome as me but it could…” he stopped and tried again. “Thank you.” Ivan looked caught between amusement and confusion but he nodded and turned on his heel. Looking back at the flowers and fiddling with his tie, Gilbert followed him, wearing only one of the shirts and the suit pants instead of the full ensemble.

For a while they walked in silence before Ivan haltingly started pointing out features, like old paintings and why the walls were the shades they were. He seemed to waver in front of one door and as he started to turn and move on, Gilbert caught his arm. “What do you want of me?”

“What?” Ivan asked, looking down at him.

“Because you’ve gone through a lot of trouble to keep me here,” Gilbert said, tone brasher than he felt. “Don’t be such a fucking coward, Ivan.”

For a terrifying moment Gilbert thought that was the wrong thing to say before he was slammed against the wall, Ivan biting a kiss into his mouth, one hand painfully tugging his hair back. In return he tried to climb up Ivan.

“Better?” Ivan asked and Gilbert laughed, banging his head against the wall.

“Yeah, I can live with that.”

Ivan pulled Gilbert with him along the wall, shoving the door that he had stopped by open and dragging Gilbert inside. Barely even looking around, Gilbert latched himself onto Ivan again, pulling him down by the lapels.

“You’re not doing this just because?” Ivan asked, voice pitched high but eyes concerned.

“Are you kidding?” Gilbert returned. “That’s a consideration in your head? Fuck no.”

Ivan slid his hands down Gilbert’s spine, making him shudder. “But you never wanted to be here.”

“Not now,” Gilbert said, hands going to Ivan’s ears and dragging him further down. “Don’t even go there right now. This isn’t some captive thing or Stockholm or a psychiatrist’s wet dream right now.”

Ivan tilted back to look down at him in confusion. “Isn’t it?”

“Alright, probably, but we’re not talking about that right now,” Gilbert said. “We can even not talk at all,” he added and Ivan bent down, Gilbert standing on his toes to make it easier to drag their mouths together, the kiss still a battle between tongue and teeth.

Apparently content with not talking, Ivan tugged Gilbert with him through the suite of rooms, tripping himself back on the bed and taking Gilbert down with him, mouths locked in a duel all the way.

Gilbert landed with an oomph on top of Ivan, taking the appearance of the bed as permission to pull at his clothes, unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing as Ivan pulled his tie off. “Thank you for the suits again,” he managed and Ivan laughed, a lower sound than his usual giggle. He got Gilbert’s shirt off and tossed it away.

“They look good on you,” Ivan said, smashing his mouth under Gilbert’s ear more than kissing the skin there. Gilbert huffed and reached for Ivan’s scarf blindly, pulling it down and freezing.

“What the fuck?” Gilbert managed before Ivan lashed out, kicking Gilbert so unexpectedly he toppled off the bed from his precarious perch on Ivan’s legs. As Gilbert pushed himself up on his elbows, Ivan frantically tried to cover his neck again. “What the fuck?” Gilbert repeated, lunging forward and fighting with Ivan over the fabric covering his throat. “No, who the fuck?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ivan said, shoving his hands away.

“The hell it doesn’t,” Gilbert said, finally getting the scarf down enough to take a look at the scars again, realizing with a closer look that there were several on top of each other. “God damn it, Ivan,” he breathed and when Ivan shoved him again he was prepared enough that instead of falling off the bed he could rock forward.

“It was long ago,” Ivan said, turning his head away and Gilbert lunged, wrapping his hands up in the scarf.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“ _It_  doesn’t matter,” Ivan protested. “It was long ago and they’ve healed.”

“Ivan,” Gilbert said and the larger man stilled, Gilbert jammed against his chest and sitting in his lap. For a moment neither moved, just staring at each other, Gilbert’s eyes determined and Ivan’s face oddly scared, like he would rather wrap his entire soul in the scarf and never be seen again.

“I was just seven,” he said finally and Gilbert forced his fingers to relax. “For this,” he said, touching a line that went around his entire throat. “Someone who did not want my father to have an heir tried to have me strangled. Winter saved me.”

“So it’s a rope mark,” Gilbert said, wanting to touch it and Ivan nodded. Fingers twitched, hesitant, as Gilbert lifted his hands and barely touched Ivan’s throat, tracing along the single line before resting his fingers against several jagged ends. “These?”

“My father,” Ivan said and Gilbert tensed. “He pushed me through a window.”

“A window,” Gilbert repeated, fury coiling under his voice and Ivan almost shivered.

“Yes,” he agreed, looking at Gilbert’s expression with vague confusion in his own. “The greenhouse.”

“Your father pushed you through the window of a greenhouse,” Gilbert said, and his fingers started to shake in anger. “Why?”

“I was not supposed to be there,” Ivan said, eyes skidding away from Gilbert’s face. “It was not good for me to spend my time looking at flowers. It was not, I was not enough of a man to care more about sunflowers than arithmetic or the casino. I needed to learn what to pay attention to.”

“Sunflowers?” Gilbert asked, voice almost breaking when he thought about how often Ivan had deposited the flowers in his room and how confused and angry he had been about it.

Ivan pulled Gilbert up, so that his knees were braced on either side of Ivan’s legs and Ivan could bury the side of his face against Gilbert’s stomach. “I loved sunflowers,” he said, words coming more easily since he was not looking at Gilbert’s face. “But they did nothing for me or my training. My father was right, too many people wanted his empire, his money, and me out of the way to be so distracted by a flower. He would lock me out of the house in the winter,” he said. “If he caught me in the greenhouse. In the summer it would be the freezer, which was worse,” and Gilbert started shaking. “Downstairs. There’s a walk in freezer. Outside it was cold and dark but there were lights I could see and the sounds of other people. In the freezer it was just dark and cold and silent.”

“They were just flowers,” Gilbert said, voice tight.

“There is no room for things like that,” Ivan replied. “And he was right. He died when I was fifteen.”

“I remember,” Gilbert murmured, forcing his hands to loosen so he could run them through Ivan’s hair. “Youngest Head to survive in this city. No one else has done it.” The myth of the teenager who took over one of the most brutal regions had helped inspire terror in the other Houses.

“I killed them all,” Ivan said, still speaking to Gilbert’s stomach. “All my father’s men. They thought they could control me, or use me, and so we killed them, Winter and I. Or they would have killed me.” He turned his head, butting his nose against Gilbert’s navel. “I hate the cold.”

“I thought Otho was going to kill me,” Gilbert said faintly and Ivan looked up at him, chin resting against his stomach. “That night when you killed him… blood didn’t matter. I was the eldest, he thought I should have been heir except no fucking moron would have named me heir. He thought I would protest it though, he thought I resented Ludwig,” and he laughed, a bitter sound. “I would give anything for Ludwig, I never wanted his position, I never wanted to lead anyone. I just wanted to see him shine and Otho was going to kill me because he didn’t understand me.”

“He was always an idiot,” Ivan said, voice low.

“Then why did you ally with him?” Gilbert asked, looking down and framing Ivan’s face with his hands.

“Because I wanted you,” Ivan said softly and Gilbert’s red eyes widened.

“What?” he managed and Ivan’s hands were moving again, pulling Gilbert’s pants open.

“Have you ever done this?” Ivan asked, focused on his task and Gilbert startled.

“Are you kidding?” he laughed, shaking his head and his fingers digging in to Ivan’s skull though he could not tell if he was urging him to keep going to desperately trying to keep him still.

Ivan tilted his head back, looking at Gilbert. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah but then I open my fucking mouth,” Gilbert huffed and Ivan smiled, eyes still open. “Have you?” he asked, voice smaller than he meant it to be and Ivan shrugged. Before he could ask what such a non-committal response meant, Ivan urged his hips up and nuzzled against his boxers which had not been pulled down with his pants. Making a breathless sound, Gilbert’s spine threatened to collapse over Ivan. “Ivan—” he started and his pants were dragged down and Ivan practically swallowed him entirely. He had a hysterical thought about being devoured.

Every time his fingers pulled Ivan’s hair too hard, Ivan made an annoyed sound but he never protested or told Gilbert to stop. Ivan’s hands holding his hips up and his hold on Ivan’s hair were the only thing keeping him from falling over backwards as his back arched.

When he came, his back arched impossibly more, a muffled shriek coming from him as Ivan swallowed and he really did feel devoured.

For a moment he hung suspended, Ivan still holding his hips as he pulled his mouth back. Slowly, Ivan withdrew one hand to rub across his mouth and Gilbert collapsed backward in a boneless mass. When Ivan leaned over him, he shivered because his nerves were still there. “Fuck,” he managed as Ivan kissed his bellybutton.

“I did not bite,” Ivan said, and Gilbert clamped down on a hysterical laugh.

“No, fuck, no you didn’t,” he managed, dragging his arms up to touch Ivan’s shoulder blades and he shivered again as Ivan looked up at his eyes. “I don’t want to know,” he added, even though curiosity was already threatening to get the better of him. “Please come here.”

Ivan leaned up, slinking his way up Gilbert’s body, and every movement Gilbert made felt slow and heavy but he dragged Ivan’s shirt off and wiggled the rest of the way out of his pants, kicking them off the side of the bed. When Ivan kissed him it tasted different and he shivered again.

“You’re starting to act feverish,” Ivan said and Gilbert was unable to stop the hysterical bark he let out.

“Don’t even,” he slurred, dragging Ivan down for another kiss, wrapping his legs around his waist. “Just, Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed, hands going where ever he could find, feeling more scars along Ivan’s back and touching his neck and sides and finally rolling them over so he could brace himself on Ivan and trail his hands down his side. He did not quite feel brave enough to put his mouth on Ivan’s cock so he touched there as well, watching Ivan’s face in fascination.

Ivan came with a tiny hiccupping sound and Gilbert leaned over to kiss him because he could think of nothing else in the world he wanted to do except that. Ivan slung an arm around his waist and rolled them both over, dragging Gilbert to his chest. “You’re warm,” he said, nose buried in Gilbert’s bristly hair.

“Did you do that before?” Gilbert asked, shifting against Ivan’s chest.

“Yes,” Ivan murmured. “Twice. But not like that.”

When Ivan kissed him again, the motion lazy and content it was the first kiss that did not feel like they were on a battlefield and they fell asleep trading languid kisses, wrapped up in Ivan’s blankets.

o-o-o

Cameron stumbled into the English House, a make-shift bandage over a graze in his upper left arm and looking the worse for the wear.  Arthur, for once out of his office before midnight paused on the stairs and looked at his elder brother, "What in the hell happened to you?"

The redhead looked up, leaning against the door for a moment before pushing off, "Skirmish with a couple members of the Asian House."

"We're not ready for that to be happening, yet, Cameron," Arthur replied, giving him a once over and guessing that he didn't have any life-threatening injuries.

"It gets worse.  Pretty sure I just shot their heir."

Arthur paused at that, his lips curling up ever so slightly, "No, no Cam I don't think that makes it worse.  That may be just the chaos needed over there."

Alfred came rattling out of the kitchen, a makeshift sandwich in his mouth and he stopped, looking between his uncles. "What chaos?" he asked, Liam bumping into his shoulder from where he'd also been scavenging for late night snacks.

Matthew appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning on the bannister and listening in.  Arthur glanced at his nephews, green gaze darting briefly up to where the youngest one was, "Cameron was in a skirmish with the Asian House, and may have sent the house of cards tipping.  Hopefully they'll land just far enough in our favor."

"What he's sayin' is that I've got myself a new scrape, but I shot their heir," Cameron supplied, missing the way Matthew's eyes darted quickly to Alfred.

Sandwich in his hand, Alfred froze, not breathing but still in the cocky position he'd been in when he'd asked. "How much trouble did you get us in to?" he asked, snapping his lungs back to action and forcing his limbs to relax back into something that looked natural. "Did you kill him?"

"No, he wasn't dead last I saw," Cameron answered.  "I was too busy getting out of there to be sure, but I didn't get him anywhere immediately deadly."

"So we might not be instantly going to war," Liam said and he put a hand on Alfred's back as a silent reminder not to sag or fall back and Alfred shrugged him off in annoyance.

"As long as he's alive we can expect not to be in war, but we should also prepare for the risk of retaliation," Arthur replied.

"You don't think this would be enough reason for Yao to go to war?" Matthew asked from where he'd descended the stairs to stand next to Arthur.

"No. His heir is still alive.  And as long as that remains so, we won't see immediate war, but we move carefully and try to anticipate any moves they might make," the Head of the House replied.

"But there will be more skirmishes," Alfred said, tone flat.

"Undoubtedly," Arthur agreed.  "There always are.  And something will happen to escalate it, I'm sure, but it will cool off again just as it always does."

"Of course," Alfred said, voice still flat and he almost walked back into the kitchen to throw away the sandwich he was still holding but it would be too obvious. "Things like this always cool down, right. It's not like you and Yao haven't been sniping on each other for years and turning this entire fucking thing into a vengeance gig." He snapped his mouth shut when he realized he said too much but his eyes were still daring.

Arthur fell completely still at that, his green eyes narrowing dangerously, "Tread carefully, Alfred.  You don't know what you're talking about."

"The entire city knows what I'm talking about," Alfred returned. "Besides, you wanted me to start paying more attention." Liam hit him in the back again and he ignored it.

Matthew shook his head at his brother from behind Arthur's back, Cameron catching the motion but not commenting on it.  Arthur grit his teeth, "Do you have something further to say, Alfred?"

"No, I guess I'm done," Alfred ground out, heart jumping in his chest.

"Good.  Until you actually know the intricacies of the relations with the other Houses you would do well to keep your own counsel," Arthur said, coldly.  "Cameron, get that graze seen to.  I'll be in the office."  He turned on his heel and swept up the stairs. Cameron rubbed his eyes before slipping away to locate their medic.

As soon as both of the older men had left, Matthew came the rest of the way down the stairs to Alfred's side. Alfred was shaking, glaring after where Arthur had gone. "Don't even," he said, shoving the sandwich at Liam's chest and thundering up the stairs to his room.

Matthew watched him go, glancing at Liam, "I'm going to go make sure he doesn't do anything too...moronic." He was still angry with his brother for Alfred's comments regarding whether or not he had his back, but he also knew that as much as Alfred said otherwise, the last thing he needed was to be left alone.

Liam nodded, not trusting Alfred to not hit him if he tried to follow. "Good luck," he said.

"Thanks," Matthew murmured before following his brother.  He paused outside of Alfred's door and knocked, "Al?"

"Go away," Alfred said, his voice on the other side of the door as he had simply collapsed there once he was inside.

"Alfred, please let me in," Matthew said, resting his forehead against the door.

There was a rustling sound of movement, Alfred dropping his phone in his pocket from where he'd been holding it against his forehead. "I said go away."

Matthew sighed, clenching his fist against the wood, "When was the last time I did that when you told me to?"

"Never," Alfred said. "I'm still not opening the door. Nothing's wrong."

"And pigs have sprouted wings."  He tried the doorknob.

It was open but Alfred still had his weight against the door. "It could happen you know. Heroes don't cry over enemies."

Matthew leaned his full weight against the door, feeling it give a fraction of an inch but not much more than that, "Alfred, damnit I am not having this conversation through the door and I am not interested in trying to climb along the house wall into your window."

There was a silence. "You wouldn't," Alfred managed.

"I tried it once and decided that it was a great way to risk breaking my neck.  But I know where the lip of the ledge is that would get me from my window to yours.  It's not all that far, really," Matthew replied, still leaning his weight against the door.

"Fine," Alfred muttered and moved forward.

His brother nearly stumbled into the room, having not expected him to actually move.  Matthew recovered quickly and closed the door, speaking as soon as it was shut, "He's not an enemy to you though."

"That's not what matters," Alfred replied, already pacing around the room.

"Doesn't it?" His brother asked quietly, stepping away from the wall to perch on Alfred's bed and watch him stalk around like a caged lion.

"Why would it?" Alfred asked and his fingers were shaking but he would not pull his phone out in front of his brother. There was no way there would be any messages anyway, and it would be stupid to send one to the latest burner phone.

"Because as much hell as I give you for your 'ew emotions' reaction, you do care about him, don't you?  And you're worried," Matthew answered.

"Cameron only thinks he didn't kill him," Alfred snapped back. "And I have to wait for the spies and everyone else to find out first because I can't ask, I can't go over there and demand to see him I have to wait to be told and," he cut off with an irritated growl.

Matthew hesitated for a long moment, "Do you want me to see what I can find out?  I could suggest to Arthur that it's necessary that we know so we know what level of retribution we'll be facing.  He wouldn't find that suspicious.  And I'm sure there are avenues I can check myself."

"Would you?" Alfred asked, stopping to look at his brother. "It's just I—," he stopped, shaking his head again. He tapped his phone in the pocket, all Kiku's messages deleted off it. One had come through earlier asking to meet the next day and he could feel a scream bubbling up in his chest still.

Matthew nodded, "I'll do my best.  I don't...I don't have any contacts in the Asian territory, but I'll see what I can find."

"Thank you," Alfred said, mutedly. "I'll just... sit here. And wait."

Matthew nodded, pausing on his way to the door, "If you need anything else, let me know, I've got my phone and Liam will help too."

Alfred nodded. "Sure he will. Just... be careful yeah?" he added. "We really don't need you being shot by the Asians too at this point."

"I'll make sure he will," Matthew said.  "And I'm always careful, Alfred, I'm not going to add to this issue."

Alfred barked out a laugh before containing it. "This issue is bad enough, I think," he agreed, pacing again.

Matthew paused for another moment and murmured, "Just stay safe through this, Al."

"I'm trying," Alfred said, voice dropping. "I just hope we both survive is all."

"Take care of yourself, and we'll do what we can to keep him alive too," Matthew murmured after a moment.  "But the Family's our priority.  Just as he is his House's."

Alfred looked sideways at him as he paced around the room and shook his head. He wanted to snarl at Matthew about how he needed to protect Kiku and his House was clearly not doing a good enough job but he kept his mouth shut.

"Just..." he drew a deep breath, "Just don't cross Arthur.  That's all I'm asking."

"Believe me," Alfred said with another high laugh as he shook his head. "I'm not going to be trying to tick him off."

Matthew nodded, "I'll go get started on this then."  He opened the door, glancing back at his brother, "It's okay to feel things sometimes, Al.  Especially when you're away from everyone else." Watching him, Alfred just shook his head slightly. Matthew sighed softly before slipping out of the room, closing the door quietly.

o-o-o

Walking quickly, Leon weaved through the streets on the way back to the house from the hospital. He should not have been out alone but he needed the air and no one else had been ready to leave or on their way. He turned around another corner and paused, trying to backtrack and take another route.

Matthew paused when he saw the youth and moved quickly, "Leon!  Wait, please."

"We're not supposed to talk," Leon said, still walking but slower than he had.

Catching up to him, the blond nodded, "I know that.  God do I know that.  But I really need a confirmation from someone, and you're the only person I can think who would answer me without shooting first."

Leon looked back. "Oh. He did say you caught them."

"Is he alive?" Matthew asked without further preamble.

"Yeah," Leon said. "He'll be in the hospital overnight and then he'll be out. It was just a fuck up."

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh thank God."

"So Alfred got over his ‘ew emotions’ thing then?" Leon asked, head darting back and forth, desperately hoping no one was paying them any attention.

"Only about Kiku," Matthew answered, casting a quick glance over his shoulder.

Leon laughed, eyes still moving. "Well it's a start I guess."

"That's one way of putting it," Matthew shook his head. "I should get back before he does anything more reckless..."  He hesitated, "Are you doing alright?"

Eyes sliding over, Leon shook his head slightly. "It's too late to even ask that question."

The blond sighed and nodded, "Stay safe, Leon."

"That's what we're all trying to do, isn't it?" Leon asked, arms folded across his chest as they walked.

"If it isn't it should be," Matthew replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You're taking care of yourself too, aren't you?" Leon asked, looking sideways before snapping his eyes away to watch the street again.

Matthew paused at that and then nodded, "If anything happened to me I'm not sure what would happen to Arthur and Alfred.  So, yes I am."

"I suppose whichever motivation works," Leon shook his head. "You do remember to live for yourself and not your brother, don't you?"

"You remember Alfred, don't you?" Matthew asked.  "I take what time I can, but I'm just about the only person he won't ignore permanently if he wants to."

"That's not inspiring," Leon said. "You're supposed to say yes of course I live my own life."

Matthew snorted, "Leon, I haven't lived my own life since I was ten and I was told to be ready to run in case Fitzwilliam's death went badly for Arthur."

"Isn't that why you should fight for it?" Leon asked and they stopped at a crossroads. "I need to go that way. I don't think you should."

The blond nodded, "I should go let Alfred know Kiku's going to be fine anyway."  He paused, "Good luck, Leon."

"It's a bit late for luck," Leon said, turning on his heel and starting off into the night. Matthew watched him go and sighed, running a hand over his face before turning and going back to the English House.

 o-o-o

Waking up, Gilbert looked at the ceiling and let his head sink further back against Ivan's pillow.

For a long time he didn't move, finally pushing himself to his feet and staggering to the shower before pulling on the rumpled pants and shirt he'd been wearing the day before, wrapping himself in one of Ivan's blankets and exploring the suite of rooms. There was no computer or phone that he could see, but there was a TV that looked almost entirely unused with only a few DVDs scattered around the player.

Wandering back into the bedroom he finally noticed a note scrawled out in scratchy writing to feel free to stay there, Ivan had an early meeting and would be back later. Shaking his head at the note, Gilbert plopped himself down in front of the TV, idly flicking through channels.

He stopped at the sight of a couple kissing passionately and found himself comparing what had happened last night. He wasn't certain the same word could be used to describe the two actions.

Several hours later, he'd gone through several romantic comedies and dramas, trying to figure out exactly what felt so different.

The door opened and Toris stepped inside to clean it as he did semi-daily.  He paused and blinked when he saw Gilbert there, "Oh, I, I expected the rooms to be empty."

Gilbert started, looking over at him from where he'd been frowning at the screen. "It's not a bad assumption," he said, trying to huddle further down.

Toris blinked at him, taking in his showered yet disheveled state and looking toward the bed briefly, "You've been here all night, haven't you?"

"What?" Gilbert said and shifted his shoulders back against the couch. "Well, I wouldn't be hiding here if he didn't know about it," he said finally.

"I'm not sure whether that makes you the bravest, craziest, or stupidest person I know," Toris murmured as he set to work cleaning the room.

"I'm currently accepting all titles," Gilbert said, knees drawn up to his chest as he watched Toris.

"You're sure you're not suffering from Stockholm syndrome?" Toris asked, glancing at him.

"It's not a certainty," Gilbert admitted. "But I don't think so."

Toris considered that for a long moment before nodding, "Well, then I wish you luck."  His gaze drifted to the television and he blinked rapidly, "What are you watching?"

Gilbert shifted, still embarrassed to be found there. "Romantic comedies."

The brunet bit back what might have been a laugh, "Honestly?  Why would you subject yourself to that?"

Laughing, the sound more subdued than his usual hissing sound, Gilbert shook his head. "I thought it might help me understand it a bit more but they're all pretty awful."

"How long have you been watching these tragedies of filmmaking?"

"Couple hours," Gilbert admitted. "The kissing even looks fake."

Toris nodded, moving over, "That's what happens when you stage scenes.  You honestly expected it to help you understand...what?  Your, is, is it right to call it a relationship? with Ivan?"

"Something like that," Gilbert agreed, resting his chin on his knees. "I thought I might at least understand how people thought kissing worked."

"You two really are lost in this, aren't you?" Toris shook his head, dusting the space around the television.

"Yeah," Gilbert agreed. "He was surprised I'd never done anything like it before, I tried not to be when he said he _had_."

That caused the other man to still and turn to look at Gilbert, "He what?"

Gilbert shrugged, the motion tight. "Apparently has had sex before," he said. "It's not that weird, is it?"

"You've, you've met Ivan right?"

"Intimately, even," Gilbert drawled. "Yeah so alright he dragged me here with broken ribs and was too embarrassed or nervous or something to say why for months on end but..." He paused, obviously considering his own words. "So maybe it is odd."

"Not to mention that a huge number of people are, are pretty close to terrified of him," Toris murmured.

"Like you?" Gilbert asked, not meaning to be unkind.

The brunet hesitated and then nodded, "Yes, like, like me."

"You don't happen to have any idea how this relationship stuff is supposed to work, do you?" Gilbert asked, sounding more hopeful than he felt as he watched Toris.

Toris offered him an almost apologetic smile, "I'm only just, just starting to figure it out myself."

Gilbert looked at him in some surprise before he arched a brow. "Feliks?"

Hesitating again, Toris finally nodded, smiling faintly, "Who else?"

Gilbert nodded. "Good luck," he said, deciding not to ask anything else.

"Thank you.  Good luck yourself," Toris moved over to clean around the bed.  "Anything I can get for you?"

"No," Gilbert said. "I mean, no, food. If you could send up some food? I don't really want to leave." He paused a beat. "How much is his sister going to kill me when she finds out?"

Toris paused at that, "Well, it probably will help that Ivan won't let her kill you?  Otherwise, there's, there's a high probability."

"Yeah if you could send food up that would be great," Gilbert said after a beat. "I'd hate to walk out and right into her."

That garnered a faint smile, "I'll make sure to send some up."

"Thanks," he said, still curled up in Ivan's blanket, knees against his chest and arms holding them up.

Toris paused at the door, "Are you going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Gilbert admitted. "I hope so."

"If, if you need anything else, let me know," Toris offered, mutedly

Gilbert looked at him in confusion before nodding. "Thanks, I'll work on asking if I need it."

The brunet nodded quickly and slipped out Gilbert sighed when he was gone, turning his attention back to flipping through channels, marveling at how different the kisses on screen were compared to what Ivan did to him.

Several hours later, Ivan stepped in the room and stopped, looking confused. "Did you honestly think I would have left?" Gilbert asked, watching his expression and Ivan came around the couch to sit next to him.

"Yes," he said and Gilbert kicked one leg out against Ivan's. "There was nothing keeping you here."

"I was waiting for you," Gilbert said. "Idiot."

Ivan smiled, tilting his head. "Alright," he said, glancing over at the screen. "What are you watching?"

Gilbert clicked the television off. "Nothing good," he dismissed. He could admit it to Toris but not to Ivan. "You don't have a lot of movies. What you do have are weird."

Blinking once, Ivan shrugged. "They're old," he agreed, leaning back and Gilbert watched him from where he was still curled up underneath the blanket. "But... my sister got some of them for me," he said. "Old Russian films that for some reason she thought I'd like."

"And do you?" Gilbert asked.

Ivan paused, looking at the turned off screen. "I like Chapaev," he said finally. "The idea of comradeship, of working together. It," he shook his head instead of continuing.

"It must seem appealing," Gilbert said, shuddering to remember the look in Ivan's eyes when he said that he had killed all of his father's men before they killed him.

"Yes," Ivan agreed, nodding and turning back to Gilbert, reaching out for him and Gilbert went, abandoning the blanket and shuffling over. "You're so warm," Ivan said, pulling him closer.

"If you think so," Gilbert said and shrugged, shoulders bumping into Ivan's arm.

"Do you want anything?" Ivan asked, face buried in Gilbert's hair.

"Like what?" Gilbert asked.

"Anything," Ivan said and instantly amended his words. "To keep you occupied during the day."

Gilbert almost scoffed, saying there was nothing to occupy him because he could not move, could not run through the streets, and while there was danger still in the house, it was not the brutal violence of the streets that kept him honed and on edge. "A flute," he said finally and Ivan's head snapped up in surprise. "I want a flute."

"Alright," Ivan said, looking confused.

For a moment they looked at each other, both hesitating before Gilbert leaned up, slamming their mouths together. Nothing he had seen that day had convinced him their way wasn't the best for who they were and Ivan pressed him down against the couch.

"I'll take this for now," Gilbert said and Ivan smiled.

o-o-o

Squinting down at the paper, Matthias leaned back to rub a hand over his face, placing the paper on top of the pile of things he thought were finished enough. The light in his office was turned down low, everyone else had long since gone to sleep like they usually did, and Matthias was up as he often was.

Luckily for what he considered his pride, many of the others were heavy sleepers. He pushed a pen around for a while, stretching his back out from where he had been hunched over to properly read the small text. He considered the two piles in front of him as he did so and sighed, pushing them both to the far edge of the desk and pulling inter-House correspondence closer to make sure there were no pressing letters he had to reply to.

Berwald hadn't been able to sleep for once, and was on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he saw the light on in Matthias' office.  Frowning very slightly he moved over to stand in the doorway, "M'tthias?"

Eyes snapping up, Matthias squinted at him. "What are you doing awake? And downstairs?"

"Water.  Why're you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Matthias tried, propping his chin up on his folded hands and grinning.

Berwald looked toward the clock, one of his eyebrows twitching, "You try?"

"Um," Matthias paused, smile slipping. "Not really?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head, "Why not?"

Matthias spread his hands, muttering something and realizing that Berwald would be more than willing to stand in the doorway and glower at him until he stopped stalling. "Because there was still work to finish."

"Wait 'til mornin'."

"It needs to be done now," Matthias said and laughed, shaking his head. "Besides, it's not like I ever wake up in time for it to be morning."

Berwald didn't look impressed, "Do this much?"

"Why would you ask that?" Matthias shot back.

"It's three'n th' mornin'."  Berwald looked him over, having suspicions as to why Matthias was rarely awake before noon.

"It's not that late," Matthias protested, with another easy smile. "Why's it got you worried like?"

He frowned again before crossing to the desk and reaching for the lamp, "Bed.  Wait 'til mornin'."

"Wait, no," Matthias said, hands snapping out to stop him. "I need to make sure there isn't an insult waiting to happen in here."

Berwald drew back, still practically looming over the desk, "Insult?"

"Well, you know," he said, waving some of the letters in front of Berwald's face. "These are all from the other Houses, reports, letters, whatever the fuck they feel like sending and I'd hate to step on anyone's toes." He paused. "We can't really afford to step on anyone's toes right now."

"When'd they come in?"

"Today, mostly," Matthias said. "What does that matter?"

"Replying t'morrow won't be an insult."

"You can only say that when you know Ivan or Yao or Ludwig isn’t playing some mind game," Matthias said, smile freezing in stress and he pushed himself to his feet. Picking up the pile of finished paperwork, he moved back to where there were several filing cabinets at the back of the room, fairly obscured from the door and long assumed empty by most of the House. Checking the paperwork again, he pulled open the second drawer, filing each sheet into a carefully labeled folder.

Berwald followed him, after shutting off the desk lamp, "Y' wouldn' send th' reply 'til t'morrow anyhow."

"But I'd have it done," he said, not looking up from where he was filing.

"Y'll work better after sleep."

"You don't actually know when I work well," Matthias replied, closing the drawer and opening the next to finish putting away the papers before closing it.

"Why work now?" Berwald pressed, not fully believing the answers he'd been given.

Matthias turned and when he realized how close Berwald was he pressed his back against the cabinet. "I work better," he said. "And everyone else is asleep."

"Y'd get more help in day time."

"I don't need help," Matthias said, words lashing out. "I can do this myself."

Berwald's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "Not a weakness to get help."

"Yes it is," Matthias said, tilting his chin back to make up for the small height difference between them. "I have to be able to do this on my own because this House needs to be strong again. It needs a strong Head to do that."

"So y' never let us know y' working," Berwald frowned again.

Matthias shrugged. "I hate people knowing when I'm trying too hard," he said, faintly, admitting something he usually would not.

"It's us," Berwald replied, shaking his head.

"That doesn't matter," Matthias said. "It should but it doesn't. I don't want you to see me struggling." Muttering something under his breath, Berwald caught Matthias' arm and pulled him toward the door.

"Hey—" Matthias started to protest. "I still need to—"

Berwald ignored him, sweeping him up over his shoulder and shutting off the light as he exited the office.  He paused long enough to pull the door shut and started toward the stairs, "It c'n wait."

Matthias made a muffled sound as he was lifted off the ground. "Berwald, put me down," he hissed, not yelling for the danger of waking anyone else up.

He hummed a negative rather than actually say anything in response to that, pausing at the top of the stairs and turning toward Matthias' room. Making angry huffing sounds, Matthias buried his face against Berwald's back to hide the heat on his cheeks but he stopped struggling.

Shouldering open the door to Matthias' room, Berwald turned the light on and dumped the other man on the bed, "Work c'n wait.  Sleep."

Matthias flopped his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling rather than look at Berwald. "Sleep is not what's on my mind after that stunt."

Berwald's lips quirked ever so slightly upward at that, "Oh?"

"You asshole," Matthias said and lunged at where Berwald was still standing near the bed, knocking him back against the wall, hands on either side of his face.

That earned an expression that on anyone else would have been a smirk as his hands closed on Matthias' hips and he yanked him closer, "Me?"

"Yes, you," Matthias said, grinning as his breath hit Berwald's mouth. "And your stunt."

"Shouldn' work so late," Berwald replied.

"Shouldn't carry me up the stairs," Matthias said back.

"Got y' out of the office."

"Yeah, you're an asshole," Matthias smirked and pressed his mouth forward the last inch to Berwald's. Berwald pressed into the kiss, his fingers digging into the other's hips.

With a sound punched out of his lungs, Matthias pressed against him, unable to stop moving as he rolled their bodies together, hands skimming over Berwald's form. Breath catching on a near-growl in the back of his throat, Berwald raked one hand up and then down Matthias' spine, steady and still except for that. Matthias laughed against his mouth, arching his back into the touch, hands settling for the moment on Berwald's chest and pulling at the cotton shirt he wore to bed.

"Always impatient," Berwald muttered against Matthias' lips as his hand slipped around to the front to fumble with the Head of the House's shirt.

"Fuck yes I am," Matthias agreed, arching back so that it would be easier to get his shirt off. "It gets me what I want more often than not."

Berwald managed to divest them both of their shirts before diving back into another kiss as he pushed away from the wall.  Careful not to get too tangled up with Matthias' long limbs he tripped them both onto the bed, propping himself on his elbows over Matthias with a hint of a smile.

The entire way Matthias had fought to tangle them together and now he wrapped his legs around Berwald's, holding him down. "See, gets me lots of things," Matthias said, dragging him back down for a quick and deep kiss, licking all the way into his mouth before pulling back to scatter kisses across his cheekbones, touching the top of where his faint smile was.

Dragging his hands down Matthias' sides, Berwald reversed the motion and raked one of them through the other's hair, "Sometimes."

"I will take this time and use it to make up for all the other times it doesn't," Matthias said, hips twitching up at the feel of Berwald's hands. "Come here," he commanded, imperious, and gestured to his mouth.

Berwald offered him a bemused look and leaned down to bite at Matthias' throat instead, laving his tongue over the spot.

Groaning, Matthias arched his entire body along Berwald's, head pushed back against the pillows. "Alright, I can accept that," he said but his voice was breathier than it had been.

Chuckling against Matthias' skin, Berwald finally leaned up and kissed him harshly, "Y' talk too much."

"And it doesn't make you hot?" Matthias smirked, still not having stopped moving.

"Didn' say that," came the muttered response, Berwald's hand shifting down to hold Matthias' hip and still him against the mattress.

Matthias tried to wiggle out from underneath the touch. "Good because that would be a fucking tragedy at this point."

Berwald hummed before diving into another biting kiss. Groaning again, Matthias threaded his fingers through Berwald's hair, finally stilling to pay all his attention to their mouths.

o-o-o

Lovino stood in the entry hall, his left hand holding his right elbow and his right hand covering his chin.  He frowned very slightly as he considered the painting, "I think that's the most weapons I've ever seen in one place."

Groaning, Antonio stopped where he was coming down the stairs. "It rather is," he agreed, coming down the last few steps and approaching Lovino's back.

Not turning, the younger man simply tilted his head to the left slightly, "Did you tell him he could hang it here?"

"Yes," Antonio said. "It's the right message to send, I suppose."

"It's a nice painting.  Very, very powerful."

"And now everyone who steps inside will see it," Antonio said, wrapping his arms around Lovino's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

Leaning back against him, Lovino considered that, "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's not a great one," he said, shaking his head. "But it is a thing. It's very personal and I really hope they pay attention to the weapons and not everything else."

"You could ask him if he could paint a less personal one.  Who knows, he might manage it," Lovino suggested, eyes shifting to the window to the garden in the painting.  "And he did a decent job of making other things less noticeable.  It looks fucking intimidating, really."

"Then I hope everyone will focus on that," Antonio said, nuzzling against Lovino's hair before he leaned back. "Come on, we need to go."

Lovino sighed, tilting into the touch, "Must we?"

"We must," Antonio said, kissing his cheek and drawing back.

He grimaced but turned away from the painting and headed for the door, "Sooner we go the sooner we get back, I suppose."

"Think of it like that," Antonio agreed, dropping his hands off Lovino and stepping out the door, checking his holster.

Lovino checked his sidearms and knives, starting for the car, "Are we sure the two of us are enough for this?"

"Well now I'm paranoid," Antonio said under his breath before leaning up the stairs. "Lars!"

Lars appeared a moment later, stopping at the top of the stairs, "Yes?"

"We're going on a run to the edge of the territory," Antonio said. "Lovino is making me rightly paranoid."

"Probably smart of him," Lars answered.  "Let me grab my back-up and I'll be right down."

"Save me brave knight," Antonio called up the stairs before offering Lovino a grin. "It's just routine."

Lovino rolled his eyes as Lars disappeared down the hall, "Routine or not, I'm feeling jumpy right now."

"It'll be fine," Antonio said, running a finger across his cheek before leaning back.

Lars reappeared, pulling his tan coat on as he descended the stairs, "Let's go then?"

"As long as Antonio's done jinxing us," Lovino replied, adjusting his own coat on his shoulders.

Antonio laughed as he led the way out of the house. For a while it really did appear as if things were going as routinely as Antonio had claimed it would before suddenly it went totally wrong.

He was turning around the corner when gunfire rang out. He jumped back, swearing as the bricks from the building at the corner exploded.

Lars was pressed up against the wall of the side street across from him, trying to get a decent shot at the men who had them pinned down, though the morning sun was causing problems with visibility.  Lovino went to take a shot but was forced to pull back as bullets ricocheted off the wall by his head, "Fuck."

"Glad you're here," Antonio said to Lars, considering their position. "I'm seriously starting to wonder if the others Houses get shot at this much?"

"I doubt it," Lars replied, firing off three shots before having to draw back again.  "Unless we're talking the English House, I'm not sure there's anyone who likes them enough not to shoot them."

Back against the wall, Antonio laughed, peeking around the corner and aiming a shot over Lovino's head. "I think they're there," he said, gesturing. "Up a story or two."

Lars looked along the alley, "Think we could get over that wall back there?"

Lovino shook his head, "No hand or foot holds and it's too high.  It would also leave our back unguarded too long."

"We're not gonna be able to get out this way, though," Lars replied, leaning out quickly to fire at the estimated windows.

Antonio considered. "We'll cover each other. Go."

Lars hesitated briefly, Lovino jerked his head toward the wall, "You're taller than I am, get to the top and help us over."

The other guard nodded, bolting for the back wall and using a jump off one of the side walls to catch hold of the top.  He pulled himself up with a bit of struggle and perched himself up there, "Next."

"Go," Antonio said, looking at Lovino.

Lovino darted a glance at him, "And who exactly is covering your back?  Like hell, 'Tonio."

Antonio scowled and ducked when another shot of bullets came around the corner. "Damn it, Lovino," he said and linked his hands up underneath Lovino's waist, almost tossing him up toward Lars, who was trying to lay down covering fire at the end of the alley.

Lovino swore, catching Lars' wrist and pulling himself up to the top of the wall, taking over the covering fire as Lars stretched down to reach for Antonio, "Come on, boss."

Reaching up, Antonio scrambled over the wall with Lars’ help, feeling a bullet go through his leg on his way up. Reaching the top he thought he was going over the other side of the wall when he blacked out from what he thought was another shot.

Lars and Lovino dropped down with him, catching him.  Lovino felt panic rise in him at the blood spreading across Antonio's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so VS put together a soundtrack for the fic.
> 
> [https://8tracks.com/victoriousscarf/songs-for-a-city-at-war](https://8tracks.com/victoriousscarf/songs-for-a-city-at-war/edit) :Because the Riddle is always appropriate.
> 
> Also Ivan and Gilbert broke our rating.


	23. Do Everything You Can To Stay Alive

Sliding into a chair across from Tino, Sigurd watched him eat for a while. "I finally got Eirik to open his door."

Tino looked up from his lunch, "That's good.  He's been buried in there too long."

"He had a blood test done," Sigurd said.

He turned all of his attention to Sigurd at that, "What sort of blood test?  Is he alright?"

"Family," Sigurd said. "The hospital had some of my blood work from a few years ago and they matched them up."

"Matched them up, as in...a match?"

"Yeah," Sigurd nodded. "And then he locked himself in his room and refused to talk to me for several weeks."

"And..." Tino paused, "That confuses you?"

"Less than I would like it too," he admitted.

"I'm allowed to be relieved by that answer, right?" Tino asked, watching Sigurd.

"Why would you be?" he asked, frowning.

"Because if you're being as oblivious as some people I will give up hope of mind power in this House," Tino replied.  "And it's not like he knew you were brothers until a couple weeks ago."

"I don't care about that," Sigurd said. "It's blood. That's not what matters anymore but... it bothers him," he shook his head. "And he was always younger." He shook his head again. "I'm not oblivious."

"Well, how do _you_ feel about it?"

"He's young," Sigurd said. "I don't know how I feel about it."

Tino shrugged, "Well, I'd say you should figure that out."

"It won't mean anything if he remains stuck on a test," Sigurd said, finally reaching forward to pull some toast toward him.

"You all are hopeless," Tino said, getting to his feet.

"That's harsh," Eirik spoke from the doorway.  "Where's Berwald?"

"Don't know," Sigurd said, not reacting to Eirik's appearance and refusing to ask how long he had been there. "He's usually awake by now."

Tino glanced at the clock, "He might have gone out for the morning, maybe?"

"You don't know?" Eirik's eyebrows rose slightly.

"I don't track his movements, no."

"That's a decent surprise," Sigurd said, buttering his toast and not looking up.

Tino shook his head, "You all really think I still track him?"

Eirik looked skeptical, "You don't?"

"Not with finally getting him to talk to Matthias."

"Who's talking to me?" Matthias asked, leaning against the back of Sigurd's chair and stealing his toast.

"Why are you awake in the morning?" Sigurd asked, leveling him with a glare and trying to reclaim his toast only to have Matthias take a mouthful of it.

"It's only nominally morning," Eirik said.  "Twelve o'clock is in fifteen minutes."

Berwald entered at that point, looking ruffled in comparison to normal.  Tino's eyebrows rose and he hid a smile.

"It's still morning," Sigurd said and finally looked over his shoulder at Matthias. "Are those hickeys?"

"Huh?" Matthias managed, still leaning on Sigurd.

Eirik's lips curled upward very slightly, "You know, I think they are.  You didn't cover them very well."  That earned a blush from Berwald.

Matthias straightened and tried pulling his collar up to realize a couple of them were on his jawline. "Well," he said. "Damn. I'd say congratulations but I'm not sure that's what I mean." He smirked over at Berwald.

Berwald's lips quirked upward faintly, "Y'look good."

Tino rolled his eyes skyward, "I'm glad you're both happy, but I shouldn't have encouraged this."

"This is your fault?" Sigurd asked, shaking his head slightly as Matthias slunk across the room to where Berwald was.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, grin wide.

"So why are you up this early?" Sigurd asked, reaching across the table for where there was more toast, trying to butter and eat the bread again. He paused before adding jam to another slice and holding it out for Eirik.

"Went to bed early," Matthias shrugged, hands already buried in Berwald's shirt front.

Eirik accepted it before sitting down across from Sigurd in the seat Tino had vacated.  Berwald clasped a hand on Matthias' hip, "Three isn' early."

"You consider three early? No wonder you always sleep so late," Sigurd said, glancing over.

Tino frowned, leaning against the wall, "What were you doing up at three?"

"Workin'," Berwald answered for him.

Matthias scowled at him as Sigurd's head snapped over. "He was working?" he asked.

"Must you sound so damned surprised?" Matthias returned.

"So that's when you do it," Eirik said, glancing toward Matthias.  "I had wondered."

Sigurd considered. "I had actually as well. I was starting to wonder if you really did manage to do that all by just breathing."

"But..." Tino frowned, "Why?"

"He didn' want people knowin' he tried too hard," Berwald answered, eyes focused on Matthias, daring him to contradict what he had said the previous night.

Matthias scowled. "If this pillow talk stuff keeps showing up in the light of day we're going to have to nix the whole honesty thing."

"Y' said that in th' office," Berwald replied without batting an eye.

"It counts," Matthias said, shaking his head and stepping back.

"So it was true then?" Sigurd asked, arching a brow. "You just didn't want us to see the fact you were actually working and it wasn't easy for you?" He paused a beat. "You're such an idiot."

"We're here to help you, you do know that, right?" Tino said from where he was still mostly out of the way.

"I don't need—" Matthias started and stopped. "Thank you," he ground out, clearly uncomfortable with the very words.

"Even if you don't need it, we like to be able to offer it," Tino replied.

Eirik shook his head, "Look, if he doesn't need the help, you shouldn't offer it."

"No," Sigurd said. "Refrain from going down the path of Matthias. If you need help, you ask for it."

Eirik's eyes narrowed, "I don't want it."

"That's not what matters," Sigurd said, watching him with narrowed eyes.

Tino rubbed his eyes, "Can we try to keep the dining room as a neutral zone?  Whether you guys want it or not we're here and want to give you our support whether you like it or not."

Sigurd gave him a long look and shrugged finally, digging back into his food. Berwald made a quiet noise, but shook his head and slipped out of the kitchen rather than contribute to the possible argument any further. Moments later Matthias followed him, Sigurd still focused on his food.

Eirik opened his mouth to say something but caught Tino's eye and instead rose and left.  Tino watched him go and sighed before sitting down across from Sigurd and burying his head in his arms.

"Well I suppose you'll have to find a girl now," Sigurd said. "And have a lot of children."

Tino looked up at him, resting his chin on the back of his hands, "I'll get right on that."

"Someone probably should," Sigurd said, giving up on his meal and dropping the food back down.

"Yeah," Tino grinned slightly, "Guess I should get over my tendency to get tongue-tied around anyone not us."

"I hear they like the silent types," Sigurd said, expression grim.

"Which would work until I got to know them," Tino shrugged.  "I'm adorable enough though.  Sensitive."

"You have experience dealing with crazy so any in-laws would be a breeze," Sigurd said. "You'll do fine."

Tino watched him for a moment, "Well, I should go see about a couple of things around the House. Unless you're in the mood to sort out what you're thinking about Eirik out loud."

"Absolutely not," he said without pausing to consider.

Tino offered him a grin in response before rising, "Well, have a good day then."

"You too," Sigurd deadpanned back, glaring at the dishes before rising and carting them off to the kitchen to take aggression out on grease.

o-o-o

Toris glanced around before knocking on the door to Feliks' apartment.  He'd managed to get the afternoon and evening off under the same rules as always. There was a pause before the door opened and Feliks blinked at him. "Toris," he said, shoulders relaxing and he rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

"I woke you.  I'm sorry, I should have called ahead," Toris said.

"It's fine," Feliks said, reaching out and dragging him inside. "Like, this is better than sleep."

Toris offered him a smile as he closed the door, "Well, I'm glad to hear that, but you shouldn't skip sleep."

"I get enough sleep," Feliks shrugged, leaning up on his toes to press a kiss to Toris' mouth. "I don't get enough you."

Arm slipping around Feliks' waist, Toris drew him closer, "Have you been doing alright?"

"Could be worse," Feliks shrugged, still working his way as close to Toris as he could, squirming against his chest. "Getting a bit better."

The brunet smiled again, kissing Feliks again, "I'm beginning to worry about how accurate you can be sometimes."

"Accurate?" Feliks asked, pausing to cock his head to one side. "About what? Having a better day?"

"No, though I do hope you're honest about that too," Toris replied, running a hand through Feliks' hair.  "Gilbert was in Ivan's room this week."

Feliks' head actually snapped back. "Ivan and Gilbert? Like rummaging for blackmail material or on his bed?"

"Like wrapped in blankets on the couch in the morning when I went in to clean," Toris answered.

"He stayed there?" Feliks asked. "That's just..." he shook his head. "Well, I said they deserved each other and that hasn't changed." He started to draw back slightly, muscles less relaxed than they had been.

Toris kept hold of him loosely, shaking his head, "I was just surprised when Gilbert said Ivan had actually had, well, had sex before."

Feliks drew all the way back. "What?"

"Feliks?" Toris looked confused, rocking back on his heels slightly.

"Yeah?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and moving back to the couch, curling his legs up underneath.

Toris followed him, sitting down on the other end, "What is it?"

"Nothing, just tried," Feliks waved a hand. "Like, what were you saying?"

"I said that apparently Ivan has had sex before."

"And that's like, weird?" Feliks asked, looking over.

"It's Ivan, so yeah," Toris answered, frowning very slightly.  "You seemed startled a minute ago, and now you sound unsurprised."

"I'm startled Gilbert told you," Feliks said, brushing it off. "You know I never thought he would figure out how bodies worked together."

"Gilbert or Ivan?" Toris replied, still eying Feliks.

"Gilbert," Feliks said, looking over at Toris and flicking the ends of his hair. "He never seemed to care much. And with Ivan? That must have been the biggest clusterfuck a bed has ever seen."

"He's still trying to figure out what constitutes normal relationships but they seem to have figured other things out," Toris answered.  "Feliks, why aren't you surprised about Ivan?"

"Because he's Ivan," Feliks said. "Like, he—" he stopped suddenly and turned to look at Toris. "What exactly do you think I used to do there?"

Toris kept his expression neutral, "You danced."

"Yeah, in sparkly outfits in front of morally questionable men," Feliks said. "Were you dense or did you just not want to think about it?"

The brunet pushed himself to his feet, heading for the kitchen and where he knew Feliks kept his kettle, "I was trying desperately not to think about it."

Feliks took a breath and slowly let it out. "Look, we just... I don't want you to come into this not knowing what's happened. We're finally and," he could not quite make the words come out saying they were in a relationship. "I can't have you thinking you know me when you don't."

"Certainly explains why you used kissing me as a distraction, and how you..."  He broke off, digging through the cupboards without any real item in mind.

Feliks winced. "Toris..." He cut off again. "Would you at least come back out here?"

Toris rested his hands against the counter, drawing steadying breaths before he moved to lean against the doorway, "So the reason you weren't surprised about Ivan...?"

Shifting, Feliks shrank back slightly. "Can we keep dealing with the current issue or are you really going to push that right now?"

"I think they're related," came the response, Toris' expression never changing.

"They are," he agreed quietly but did not elaborate. "I'm just wondering if you really want to ask that question, like, right now."

Toris drew a deep breath, "How often did you do more than dance?"

"Often enough," Feliks said. "It's mostly stopped since I got out."

" _Mostly_?"

"There have been a couple exceptions," Feliks said. "Damnit, I don't have anything else Toris."

Toris' eyes narrowed, "What do you mean you don't have anything else?"

"I live without the protection of a House," Feliks said. "But everyone knows I came from one. When people come sniffing around I don't have money or gifts or even information to give them to go away. I just have," he paused, shifting and looking at the ground. "My body."

Toris ran a hand over his face, anger coiling in the pit of his stomach, "Damn it. Who?"

"That is _not_ what matters," Feliks snapped. "It was just two or three times in the last several years, Toris, if you ask for a list now you're going to ask for a list later from before I left the House and I'm not giving you either."

Disappearing back into the kitchen to actually fill the kettle, Toris tried to calm down enough to continue any sort of communication, "What does matter, Feliks?"

Feliks did not look up from where he had buried his head in his knees with Toris left again. "That it happened and I didn't want you to know, though you’re still a damned fool for not seeing it."

"I was trying not to see it," Toris replied, doing his best to keep his tone even.  "How long did you think you could keep me from knowing?"

"You'll notice I was doing really well," Feliks said, hands coming up like he was going to cover his ears before he folded them over his knees instead.

Toris moved to lean on the doorframe again, "And Ivan?  What about him?"

"Twice," Feliks said, not looking up. "Both times were my idea and I was trying to distract him from you. The first time didn't work but I tried again anyway just to see if it was because—" he stopped and cleared his throat. "The first time didn't go well. He was more confused by the entire thing than anything and it didn't work either time."

Tangling his fingers in his brown hair, Toris pulled just enough to exert pressure and give himself something to focus on, "Goddamnit, Feliks.  Why would you think that would work in the first place much less _again_?"

Feliks took a deep breath. "I don't know. I hate to say it seemed like a good idea at the time but it did."

"How?" Toris asked before shaking his head and turning to deal with the whistling kettle, "No, never mind."

"Are..." Feliks shook his head against his knees. "How angry are you?"

"I'm not sure," Toris answered honestly as he finally returned to the couch, kneeling on the floor next to where Feliks was seated and carefully nudging the blond's leg with one of the mugs of tea. Feliks just shook his head slightly.

"I'm not," Toris drew a calming breath as he set the cups down on the end table without rising, "I'm not angry at you, Feliks.  Not, not really.  I think it was idiotic of you to even attempt that with Ivan, but what else am I supposed to do or say. Am I happy about this?  Hell no.  Do I want to go after anyone who's ever touched you? Yes."

"You really can't," Feliks said, finally tilting his head enough that his eyes peeked over at Toris. "I mean, you really _really_ can't."

"It doesn't change the fact that I want to," Toris replied. "I hate the fact this happened.  I hate it so much."

"You couldn't have done anything," Feliks said, slowly starting to unfold again. "It was just the lives we had."

"And there's no changing it now," Toris murmured, leaning against the couch.

"Yeah," Feliks said. "But it's over now," he added, looking at Toris. "I mean, mostly, as I said. It's just me again."

"When was the last time you had to, to," he broke off, looking away under the pretense of picking the tea up again to offer it to Feliks.

"Months ago," Feliks said, finally accepting it. "When I bought the plant."

Toris stilled at that, "When you bought the plant?"

Feliks shrugged. "Yeah. But I mean, between the last incidents it was a long time okay so it like, it doesn't matter, okay?"

He sighed and nodded very slightly, reminding himself not to respond with the fact that it sure as hell mattered, "I, I suppose so."

Feliks shifted forward. "Toris," he said and put both his hands on Toris' cheeks. "There's things you wanted to hide from me and there's things I wanted to hide from you. It's just what our lives are."

Toris paused briefly before leaning into the touch, "I'm so sick of secrets."

"I know," Feliks said. "I don't have many of them left."

"I don't, I don't think there's anything else I've kept from you either," Toris replied, drawing back to take a drink of his tea.

Feliks looked like he wanted to follow but didn't. "I just didn't want you to think less of me."

Toris looked at Feliks for a moment and shook his head, "I couldn't, Feliks.  It's you. I care, I care about you so much."

Smile strained, Feliks shook his head slightly. "I love you."

Toris reached up to tuck a lock of Feliks' hair behind his ear, "And I you."

"For a really long time," he said. "I mean, like, ages, before I think we were really supposed to know what that meant."

Pausing for a moment, Toris set his mug down and leaned up to kiss Feliks briefly. Feliks leaned forward, not wanting to pull back. "I wanted to help you," Feliks said faintly.

"I would have done anything for you, still would.  So I, I can't blame you for doing that," Toris murmured.

Giving him a faint smile, Feliks sat back and pulled Toris with him. "You know, even though he punched me in the face and I kicked him in the balls the one thing I always liked about Gilbert was that not only was honest, but he never seemed to want me in that way. Like, he never tried to put a hand up my shorts or leer at me or anything."

Toris seemed to relax ever so slightly at that as he followed Feliks, perching next to him, "Well, that's something at least. Do I want to know why you two ended up fighting in the first place?"

"I don't remember what he said," Feliks said. "I think it was something about lack of class so I called him a little child who was still hiding behind his granddaddy's coat tails and it escalated from there." He paused a beat. "I like his brother less."

Drawing Feliks closer, Toris looked confused by that, "Alright, that I was not expecting.  You like Ludwig _less_ than Gilbert?"

"Gilbert's honest," Feliks said. "Ludwig hated me because I kicked his brother in the balls and he's... he's colder about it. Gilbert's a loud asshole, I don't want to actually see Ludwig angry. He's more like Ivan."

Toris fell completely still at that before managing a weak, "Well, I could see how you would like him less then."

"You won't know he's attacking you until it's over," Feliks shrugged. "Sort of like you don't know if Ivan's giggling because he's amused by whatever the fuck he just found or if it's because he's going to hit you in the face with a pipe."

"And this is the man who offered," he broke off rather than finish that sentence.

"Yeah, but usually he seems like he needs a reason," Feliks shrugged, tugging Toris closer. "Ivan sortta doesn't."

Toris leaned against Feliks, running a hand over the other's hair, "He, he usually has a reason. Or he thinks he does."

"Yeah, but Ivan's reasons are like, totally crazy!" Feliks said, waving his hands around before dropping them to Toris' shoulder blades.

He stiffened instinctively at the touch on his back, but nodded, "I'm not saying they're sane, I'm just saying he has reasons."

Feliks huffed out a breath and kissed his ear. "I know about the scars, right? And you know about this. So we're mostly even, right?"

"Yes, we're even," Toris murmured, nodding slightly.

"So stop freaking out and kiss me instead," Feliks said, making his own muscles relax. That earned a ghost of a smile before Toris obliged.

o-o-o

"And you're not supposed to move or do anything stupid," Mei said, fluffing a pillow before shoving it back under Kiku's head. "I have the pain meds for when you need them—but only when you need them."

Kiku sighed, staring up at the ceiling, "Thank you, Mei. Though there were unclear instructions about what 'anything stupid' might be."

"You're a horrible patient," she replied. "You're going to get up or try to do work or something like that way before you are supposed to. You're only job right now is to rest." Stepping back she twined a piece of her hair around a finger.

"But, Mei, there are things that need to be done.  And I am going to end up bored before the day is even over."

"Read a book," she shot back. "You just came home for the hospital. Come on, I'm sure there's something around here," she said, poking through his shelves and considering the books he had. "What about this one?" she offered.

He looked at the book and shook his head, "I finished that one last week."

"Oh," she sighed. "There are books here you haven't read, right?"

"Left side of the bottom shelf I think," he answered, not even thinking about the fact that his current hiding place for his phone was not far from there.

She nodded, bending down to her knees before riffling through the books. It only took her a moment to glance to the side and see where a small burner phone was shoved behind a box. Grabbing a book and the phone, she rose, holding the book out and frowning at the phone. "What's this?"

Kiku paused slightly, his mind trying to compute where he'd made such a crucial error, "One of the few books I haven't read yet."

"Good," she said, flicking the phone screen on and frowning at the single number on it.

"What have you got there, Mei?" He tried, though he knew the question fell flat.

"Why is there only one number on this phone?" she asked. "And why is it a number from the English side of town?"

He paled, feeling like everything was crumbling to pieces.  It was one thing for Leon to know, it was another for even Mei, "Because, because I have not yet wiped that phone."

"What?" she asked as the door pushed open, Leon poking his head in.

"I was just seeing how you were—" he paused at the sight of Mei holding a phone and staring Kiku down. "Feeling."

Kiku receded in the bed, pulling the blankets up in a sort of shield, "Mei, do I really have to talk about this?"

"You have a burner phone with only one number," she said and Leon looked like he wanted to retreat except he knew exactly whose number was on that phone.

"I, I haven't had the chance to add any more numbers to it."

"Kiku," she said quietly.

"Is now really the time?" Leon asked, stepping inside and closing the door and her head whipped around to see him. "He just got home."

Kiku's gaze darted to Leon and then back to Mei, "I...I'm not trading secrets.  That's a promise.  You, you know I would never do anything to damage the House irrevocably."

"That doesn't mean this isn't dangerous," she said, shaking the phone before Leon plucked it away from her. She turned on him, snarling. "Whose number it is?"

"Leave him be, Mei," Kiku sighed, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard.

"I'm asking you," she snapped. "Either of you."

The heir looked down, trying to figure out an answer before finally responding quietly, "Alfred Kirkland's."

Both Mei and Leon froze but for different reasons, Leon surprised he admitted it and Mei in the shock of the revelation. "Are you mad?" Mei asked.

Kiku nodded ever so slightly, "Probably."

"Why have you been calling Alfred?" Mei asked, grinding the words out.

"I think this conversation should wait until there are less pain meds," Leon said, trying to pull her toward the door.

"And less chance that Yao might walk in," Kiku added.

"You seem infinitely calm about this," Mei said, glaring at Leon who shrugged back at her.

"Leave him alone, Mei," Kiku murmured, leaning back and feeling like he might be on more meds than was strictly allowed.

"I'm infinitely calm about most things," Leon shrugged, the lie coming easily as he moved to hand Kiku the books he had brought him. "I don't think you read this yet and I thought you'd need a distraction. The other one's some Sudoku puzzles in case you get sick of words." He grabbed Mei's arm lightly and pulled her toward the door. "Come on."

Kiku offered him a ghost of a smile, "Thank you, Leon.  Mei, we'll talk when I'm not medicated."

"You are very damn straight that we will," she said, shrugging Leon off and stalking for the door.

Watching her go, Kiku glanced at Leon, "What are my chances of injury before I come off the medications?"

"I think you're injured enough," Leon said, and picked up the burner phone. "Want me to dispose of this?"

"Please, break the sim card and toss it separately," he instructed, though he had a guess that Leon already knew what to do with it.

Leon looked at him sideways and shook his head. "Yes, yes," he said. "I would never know how to hide my tracks."

"Sorry," Kiku offered a slightly apologetic smile.  "I will insist that was due to the dosage."

"Of course," Leon said, shaking his head slightly. "Feel better and try to take care of yourself." Kiku nodded, agreeing as he reached for one of the books Leon had brought.

o-o-o

Walking back to the house, a bag under one arm, Liam kept his eyes moving around the street. He was still deep in English territory but he was on guard. There hadn't been any movement from the Asian House and that only made him think they were planning something big.

As he turned the next corner he considered the whole street before returning to his earlier pace. Halfway down the street he noticed a form he recognized, picking his pace up more. "Kate!" he called, still trying to consider the whole street as he tried to catch up.

She paused, turning and offering him a bright smile, "Liam!"  Her light brown hair was a trait she'd gotten from her mother, but her bright blue eyes were all Cameron, "It's good to see you."

He looked like he wanted to believe that fully as he smiled. "It's odd to see you this far into the territory."

"There was a job listing," she explained, brushing a curl back behind her ear.  "And even this far into the territory it's far enough away from the house that I thought I might as well try for it."  She paused, "I'm kind of hoping it falls through, it's further from home than I'm sure I like."

Liam opened his mouth to say the same thing he had a thousand times before shutting it again. "But if it did happen I might be able to come visit you more."

Kate offered him a smile at that, "That's true, and it's decent pay.  If I get it, I'll take it.  I'm not, I'm not liking one of the ones I have right now."  She looked her brother over, eyes lingering briefly on the bag, "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "There have been better days," he admitted. "Or, months rather. Alfred's been declared heir and Matthew's still miffed that Arthur told him I was more cautious than either of them. Oh and Father shot the heir of the Asian House."

"Better years from the sounds of it," she corrected. "How badly did he shoot the heir and how dangerous is this going to end up being for you?"

"He's alive and home," Liam said. "Which means nothing if Yao is ticked. And that's not even half of the clusterfuck this is turning into."

"How bad is it going to get, Liam?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Between Alfred, Arthur, and Yao?" Liam asked. "I don't know but I think we're all bracing for all-out war."

Kate paled very slightly at that, "Stay alive.  Do everything you can to stay alive."

"That's the plan," he said. "But you know it's not that easy, right? Especially since Arthur might as well have taped the words 'Alfred's guard' over my forehead."

"Damn them," Kate muttered.  "Damn them all."

"It's how it is," Liam said softly. "And Alfred is going to need a fuck lot of help if this escalates anymore."

"I don't, I don't _care_ ," she snapped.  "You're who I have left, Liam, and they're going to get you killed at this rate!"

He opened his mouth to say that if she ever went to Arthur he would probably kill their father for kicking her out and accept her into the House. But he'd said it before. "I don't have to be the only one left," he said, coming at it from a different angle.

"It's not that easy, Liam," she replied, having a guess of where he was going.  Kate was not interested in having the same argument again.

“I know it's not," he said, having gotten into the same fight with his father earlier that week. "It's never been but that doesn't mean you can't come home."

"Home?  When has that been home for me, Liam?  When Cameron found out I was a girl instead of the son he thought he had?  When he kicked me out until I 'got over it'?  When?"

"Cameron isn't the only one there," Liam snapped, dropping into using their father's Christian name when Kate did. "I honestly don't give a damn if he's angry."

"And how can you be so sure it wouldn't be a repeat of last time with _more_ people?" She shot back, eyes narrowing.

"Do you honestly think that Alfred or Matthew would care?" Liam asked. "Or that Arthur would care? What matters to him is blood, is that you're one of his not what gender you are."

"I don't, I don't know!  I can't know.  I'm," Kate paused and crossed her arms, "You just said you all are on the brink of war, do you really want me in the House _now_? Considering I have no training whatsoever."

He paused, scowling. "Alright, not this instant," he agreed. "But it's always dangerous, isn't it? But being outside is dangerous too and you can't pretend it's not. I could at least protect you if I could find you."

Kate hesitated and then shrugged, "Maybe so.  I'll, I'll at least think about it."

"Arthur isn't our father," Liam said. "Just... keep that in mind, alright?"

She grimaced but nodded, "Yeah, I'll keep it in mind.  Keep yourself safe, Liam."

"I'll try," he promised, even though the House would always come first.

"I'll let you know how this job turns out," she offered as a reciprocal promise. "I'll take it if they offer it to me."

"Thank you," he said. "It would be good to know that you were actually around."

"And you got the last koala I sent?" She shifted the topic away from how rarely she actually saw her brother.

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Like I get them every year. I had to find shelves last year to shove in my closet for them all."

That earned a bit of a grin, "You are allowed to weed them out, you know.  I wouldn't be hurt by that."

He shrugged. "But I got the shelves and everything."

"Well, if you've got the shelves, then I suppose we'll have to see about filling them, then."

"I made sure there was extra room," he added quietly.

That brought his sister up short and she blinked at him for a moment, "Oh, Liam. I really will think about it." Kate knew how many times she'd said that, but if he was right about their uncle then it might be worth a risk.

"I'd like that," he said, looking over at her. "I mean, Matthew and Alfred are one thing but they aren't my sister." After the first couple months he had never had an issue calling her what she asked him to.

She bit her lip, hesitating before giving him a quick hug and stepping back again, "I'll, I'll call you.  Take care."

He clearly wanted to reach out again for a real hug but he was still carrying things for Arthur so he just nodded. "Please," he said. "And I will."

Kate offered him a ghost of a smile before turning and heading down the street again.  Once she was out of sight she dug out her phone, pressing the call button on her most regular contact.

Feliks picked up moments later, phone between his shoulder and ear as he kept working on the order in front of him. "Heya, Kate. Run into your brother again?"

"What gave it away besides me calling you at this time of day?  I made out well with tips last night, are you up for a drink this evening?" She replied, setting her route toward the nearest metro stop.

"You usually call when you run into him or a shitty customer," he replied, hands still moving. "And yeah the time of day like totally gives that away." He paused a moment, weighing the likelihood of Toris dropping by or his own emotional state. "Where do you want to go?"

"How about that bar on the east side of the park, you know the one I mean?"

"Yeah, we've been there before and there weren't ever any bar fights," he said, grinning at the table in front of him.

That earned a quiet laugh from Kate, "Perfect.  What time do you get off today?"

"Eh, later," he replied. "Nine?"

She paused at that before nodding, "Nine sounds perfect. I'll see you there."

"Keep breathing until then," he said before closing the phone.

Kate looked at her phone for a long moment before pocketing it and catching the metro back to her apartment where she spent the next few hours arranging and rearranging things throughout the small studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After talking about Kate we came to the realization that it might come across that we don't like Cameron. This is not actually true, he just happens to be our go-to in this one. We do like him and hopefully we'll be able to use him better in a future story.


	24. I Think I Broke Your Soap Dispenser

When he woke up Antonio couldn't tell if he was still alive or not because it felt like he was floating. Cracking his eyes open, he frowned at the ceiling, feeling that it was a rather plain sort of white tile work for hell. He shifted, trying to sit up and barely moved before the pain stopped him. "So probably not dead," he slurred to himself, the words not quite forming enough to be understood.

Lovino woke with a start from where he'd been sleeping in an uncomfortable hospital chair next to Antonio's bedside, "God damn you, you're awake."  He reached for the call button to alert a nurse.

Head flopping over at the sound of Lovino's face, Antonio tried to reach out, rattling the IV in his arm and failing to reach the other. "Hold still you idiot," Lovino said, sharply as he reached out and caught Antonio's hand.

Antonio still tried to shuffle his body toward the other. "Thought I'd left you," he said, voice firmer.

"Hold still, bastard," Lovino replied, voice tense as he leaned closer.  "You'll do more damage.  And I can't lose you, you fucking idiot."

"I'm trying not to get lost," Antonio managed, carefully articulating each word so it came out slower than usual as he held onto Lovino's hand. "I promised I didn't wanna leave you."

"Yeah, that promise does a lot of good when you get _shot_ and _die_ on the operating table even for a moment," Lovino replied, still feeling panic at that thought. "I love you, you goddamn moron."

"I died?" Antonio managed to process first before Lovino's second sentence hit him on the head like bricks and stunned him back into silence.

"Yes, you bastard.  You died, and you've been out for almost two days, including surgery," Lovino grit out, his hand tightening around Antonio's.

"You've never said that to me before," Antonio said faintly.

"Well this hasn't happened before," came the response, Lovino not realizing to what Antonio was referring.

"No," he said and the next sound he made was trapped between a laugh and sob. "That you love me. I think I'd remember if I died before."

Lovino stilled, realizing he had actually said that out loud, "I, I haven't been ready to say it before."

"I know," Antonio said, trying to pull him closer by tugging his hand when the door opened, a nurse sweeping in followed by Alfonso.

"You stupid bastard," Alfonso greeted him as the nurse started rearranging the IV.

"You're not supposed to move," he told Antonio, giving him a long look.

"I won't," Antonio tried to assure. "And it's good to see you too, Alfonso. Did you know I died?"

"Very well," Alfonso drawled back.

Feliciano appeared in the doorway in time to hear that, "I'm pretty sure anyone close to the two of you knows, knows that.  It's good you're awake." Lovino glanced toward his twin, having only drawn back enough to let the nurse work.  Feliciano hesitated for a moment but crossed the room to the bedside as well.

The nurse looked generally unhappy about the amount of people in the room but continued his work quietly. "Hi, Feli," Antonio said, trying to wave one hand before the nurse firmly set his hand back on the bed.

Feliciano offered him a smile, "Hi yourself.  You should probably do what the nurse tells you.  Just as a general rule."

Alfonso laughed. "That habit would have to have started years ago to work now."

"But you're my brother," Antonio slurred. "It's different. I can't very well listen to you."

"He's also the doctor, idiot," Lovino muttered.

Alfonso rolled his eyes and sat down, putting his feet up on Antonio's bed and ignoring the look the nurse shot him. "Like he's ever figured that out."

"I know you're a doctor," Antonio said. "Though at least you aren't smoking in the hospital."

Feliciano drew a third chair over and sat down next to his brother, "We're just glad you're awake."

"You ever do this again and I might kill you myself," Lovino threatened, though there wasn't much weight to his words.

The nurse looked in confusion between Lovino and the dopey grin that appeared on Antonio's face at that before shaking his head and straightening. "Don't tire him out," he warned before leaving the room.

Lovino rose and stretched to get some of the kinks out of his back before brushing Antonio's hair away from his forehead, momentarily forgetting the others were there, "You're a fucking idiot.  Just so we're clear."

"I think so," Antonio said, still smiling at him when the door slammed open again, an angry Francis on the other side.

"Mon Cheri, we really must talk about your habit of getting shot every week."

"You're exaggerating," Antonio managed, flopping one hand. "Just a little bit."

"Not by much," Lovino said, backing Francis up.

Feliciano looked at his brother, "You know, there's enough of us here you could probably go get yourself some coffee, or something."

"I'm fine," came the brisk response, Lovino unwilling to leave especially with Antonio actually awake.

"Becoming Head was not supposed to be this bad for your health," Francis said, dropping flowers on Antonio's chest.

"Some people have all the luck," Antonio shrugged.

"Mon Cheri, the only person with worse luck in the world than you is—" Francis paused, because months later it still felt odd that Gilbert wasn't there, hissing at him.

"Gilbert," Antonio finished for him.

"Yes," Francis huffed.

Lovino eyed Francis for a moment, "You sure managed to time your arrival right."

"I'm the intelligence officer for a reason, am I not?" Francis asked.

The younger man looked distrustful at that reminder, but finally nodded, "Kirkland must know what he's doing then, putting you in charge of that."

"I'm sure he would like to think so," Francis agreed, plucking the flowers back up and fussing over them, digging a vase out of his bag. "But you're quite done trying to kill yourself now, I suspect?"

"I think I was already trying to avoid that," Antonio replied.

Lovino rocked back on his heels at that, "Avoiding and managing are two different things."  He darted a glance at the door, considering the merits of even a couple of minutes out of the room.

Francis laughed and looked around the room. "You have a lot of people here," he remarked and Antonio nodded.

"Though," Antonio said, looking at Lovino and still smiling. "They can go out if they need to." From Feliciano's comment it sounded like Lovino hadn't in the last two days.

Lovino hesitated before nodding and slipping out of the room.  Feliciano watched his brother go and sighed, when Antonio was less loopy the younger twin knew he needed to talk to him about Lovino again.

"You would," was all Francis said and Antonio frowned at him before shaking his head slightly.

Feliciano glanced toward Francis, but settled in with his sketchbook, "Lars said something about coming back to check and see how you are today.  We told him that we would call if there was any change, but he and Bella sounded like they'd come anyway."

"Have you called them?" Antonio asked, and his frown changed to something like shock that everyone was coming.

The younger man nodded, "I called Bella."

"Good," Antonio said and Francis shook his head at the fact that Antonio still looked surprised.

Feliciano watched Antonio, still sketching, "You look like you didn't expect anyone to show up when we found out you were awake."

"I'd really prefer it if no one calls me out on that," Antonio said and Alfonso tilted his head but didn't kick him from where his feet were still propped on the bed.

Lovino spoke from where he was standing in the doorway with a cup of cheap coffee in his hands, "Too late.  Feli's a little too good at doing that."

"Calling people out?" Antonio asked, looking over.

"Especially when they don't want to be," he answered with a brisk nod which earned him a glance from his twin.

Francis glanced around the room, making sure the flowers were properly arranged before pulling Feliciano up and shooing at Alfonso. "We've probably tired him out enough for now," he said and Alfonso laughed, leaning down to kiss Antonio's forehead, ignoring the grimace he got for that.

"Bella and Lars will be by later," he said. "Do actually rest and try to be a good patient for once in your damned life."

Feliciano extricated himself from Francis and offered Antonio a quiet "get well" before slipping past his brother, nudging him on his way past.  Lovino stepped out of the doorway to let the others leave and moved over to take his seat at Antonio's bedside again.

Antonio shifted, uncomfortable on his back but not daring to try and turn over. "How are you?"

"I have coffee now, so I'm doing alright," Lovino answered, hoping he would get away with that reply.  "You scared us, 'Tonio."

"I know," he said and reached out again, his arm feeling heavy. "I scared me too but that wasn't much of an answer."

Taking Antonio's hand again, Lovino shrugged, "You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting," he said.

"I'm fine. Glad you're alive and awake," came another attempt at an answer.

"I'm sorry I was gone for two days," Antonio said. "But you're not really fine, are you?"

Lovino shifted in his seat, "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because when I woke up you said you loved me," Antonio said, shifting as pain started to seep through the edges of the pain medication.

Lovino paused at that, setting his half-empty cup of coffee aside, "I...I don't think this is working.  Me as your guard, I mean.  But, but I don't know who else I'd trust with your life."

Freezing, Antonio forgot to breathe until it only made his chest hurt. "What? But... you said... you wouldn't even talk to me when I—"

"Because you were," Lovino broke off and shook his head. "Never mind.  Yes, you're right.  I was...overreacting.  But it's more dangerous to you to have me as your guard than to have someone else there.  I have no fucking clue what else I'm supposed to do, but I can't be your guard."

"Lovi," Antonio managed. "I can't—not right now. Come here."

"You're the one who asked," he replied, almost petulantly, as he moved to perch on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't expect that answer," Antonio said, and considered the IV and the bed set up before shuffling around and dragging Lovino actually down on the bed.

"Careful, you idiot," Lovino muttered, settling down beside Antonio.  "What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know," Antonio said, carefully draping an arm over Lovino. "See, I'm being careful."

"Finally," the other replied, curling as close as he dared while trying not to jar Antonio at all. "When you're on a lower dose of meds we need to talk."

"Yeah," Antonio agreed, nuzzling against Lovino's hair.

Lovino closed his eyes, breathing in Antonio's scent and listening to the regular beep of the heart monitor.  He spoke quietly enough as to be barely audible, "I was so sure I'd gotten you killed."

Antonio frowned, clearly wanting to disagree. "We're going to talk about that," he said.

Humming in what might have been agreement, Lovino tilted his head back enough to look at Antonio, "I, god, I'm relieved enough that you're here and healing that I don't even care what we're going to talk about."

Antonio's chest jumped and he tried not to laugh. "If you keep talking you're going to stop my heart again."

"Don't even fucking joke about that," Lovino said, hazel eyes narrowing.

"Sorry but I'm almost serious," Antonio said. "God, Lovi, you know I love you."

Lovino rested his forehead against Antonio's, swallowing hard, "Damn it, 'Tonio."

"I'm still alive," he said, kissing his hair. "I'm here and I'm alive."

"You, you almost weren't, though."

"For a little bit," he agreed. "But I still came out of it."

Lovino drew a steadying breath and lay back down, still careful of the IV and of Antonio's wounds, "Yes, and you're healing now."

"I'll be on my feet again," Antonio said. "In no time."

"You'd better let yourself heal, and actually listen to the doctors," Lovino admonished, knowing he was bad at it himself, but not wanting to take any chances in their situation.

"I'll try," Antonio said, letting a huff of breath out, stirring Lovino's hair.

o-o-o

Ivan stepped into the room, blood on his cuffs and for a long moment Gilbert just stared. Shifting by the door, Ivan didn't step further inside until Gilbert let out a breath and approached him. "That's damned weird," he muttered, tugging on Ivan's cuffs and standing on his toes to kiss him.

Hesitating, Ivan wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist, holding him higher. "There was a scuffle," he said.

"A scuffle?" Gilbert laughed at the word choice. "If that's what you call ending up with blood."

Ivan shrugged, eyes focused on Gilbert. "It's just a little blood."

Gilbert chose not to say that it still meant Ivan had hurt someone, as it clearly was not his own blood, and that he himself was starting to feel more and more like a caged animal more than ready to bite the hand that fed him just for something to do. Ivan stepping inside with blood on him just reminded him of the city and the life he'd left behind, and his brother who was still probably in danger. As Ivan leaned down to kiss him again, dragging their bodies together, Gilbert arched his back and tried not to think about the restless feeling growing under his chest and threatening to spill out into action.

"Do you like the flute?" Ivan asked, biting Gilbert's ear lobe and making him groan.

"Yeah," he said, though it was not the same as the one still at the German house.

"Do you really play?" Ivan asked, one hand pulling at Gilbert's belt.

"I'll show you later," Gilbert laughed. "Because yes I play and I do it awesomely."

Ivan laughed, and it still sounded like he wasn't sure he believed Gilbert. Rolling his eyes, Gilbert started tearing his shirt off, leaving it in a puddle on the ground where he wouldn't have to look at the red against the white for a while more.

He shoved Ivan toward the bed and Ivan tripped him on the way so Gilbert landed on his back first. They were still working out how bodies fit together and Gilbert had bruises on his hipbones and he'd made Ivan bleed the day before by biting too hard.

Just as Ivan pinned Gilbert against the bed, making him laugh and murmur as Ivan dragged his teeth along his throat, a pounding came on the door. They both froze, heads snapping over.

Natalia's voice came from the other side, "Brother?"

Ivan tensed and Gilbert yelped when his hands tightened on his wrists before trying to muffle the sound. "Off," he hissed and Ivan shuffled backward as he scrambled off the bed, trying to gather his clothes up, shoving Ivan's shirt toward him and running to the bathroom.

The door handle moved as she tried it, "Brother? Who's in there?"

"What do you mean?" Ivan asked, pulling the door open, holding the stained shirt like he had just taken it off.

She frowned very slightly, her eyes traveling over his frame before focusing on his face as she tilted her head on one side, "I thought I heard someone else."

"Like who?" Ivan asked, voice tilting up at the end as Gilbert tried to pull his clothing back on in the bathroom even though if she found him there no amount of clothing would save the situation.

"I don't know," she frowned, trying to glance past him.  "But it wasn't you."

"Can I help you, sister?" he asked instead, trying to put himself between her and the door to the bathroom.

"I heard there was trouble tonight," she answered, eyes going to where the cuffs of his shirt were visible.  "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, showing her his wrists. "It was only the other who was not." Leaning against the door, Gilbert frowned to himself for not having asked whose blood that was.

She nodded, "Good."  Her gaze flicked past him to the bedroom again and she frowned, still sure she had heard someone else.

"Is there anything else?" Ivan asked and in the bathroom, Gilbert's foot slid against the tile, banging his head into the door.

Natalia startled at that sound and her eyes darted to the bathroom door before narrowing, "Who else is there, brother?"

"I don't," he started but it was obvious he was lying.

She scowled, pushing into his room and starting for the bathroom door.

"Wait, sister, there's no one," he said, reaching for her as she yanked the door open, Gilbert tripping without the support.

Natalia offered Gilbert a dark look as she stepped back, turning to face her brother, "No one?"

"Except him," Ivan said quietly as Gilbert pushed himself back up.

“I was just," he started, adjusting the line of his shoulders. "Checking the shower for... for soap, or something."

"You are the worst liar I have ever met," she grit out, glancing at Gilbert for a brief moment.

"I don't practice much," Gilbert snapped back, edging behind Ivan.

Her expression cleared and she tilted her head on one side, "Maybe you should have learned."

"Didn't seem necessary at the time," Gilbert said and Ivan just watched his sister, expression tight.

Natalia tensed, hands clenching, though her expression stayed almost neutral, "You are sleeping with my brother?"

"Well, sleeping might not be exactly the right word because there's not a lot—" Gilbert stopped and Ivan looked at him over his shoulder.

Natalia's eyes took on an almost manic glint, "No, go on."

Gilbert swallowed. He looked like he still wanted to retreat but held his ground. "No, I think I said more than enough."

Her attention shifted to Ivan, "But why?"

"Because I love him," Ivan said, simply and Gilbert almost fell over he startled so badly.

" _What_?"

Natalia paled and pulled back almost as though she'd been struck, "What?"

For a moment Ivan didn't answer her, frowning down at Gilbert, who looked even more pale than he usually did. His body was still braced away like he would run out the door in panic. "Why is that a surprise?" he asked, more to Gilbert than Natalia.

"How could you love him?" his sister snapped out.

Gilbert gestured toward her like he was backing up the question and Ivan's eyes narrowed more in confusion. "Because I do," Ivan said, a hard edge entering his voice.

Natalia opened her mouth to protest that, but finally caught her brother's tone and scowled rather than say anything, her gaze darting toward Gilbert. Eyes still wide, Gilbert took a step back. "I mean," he tried and shook his head. "I mean..."

"Why are you surprised?" Ivan asked again. "What did you think we were doing? Don't you..." he started to ask and stopped and Gilbert looked even more panicked. Natalia glanced between the two of them, not sure which answer she was daring Gilbert to give more as she tilted her head to one side, listening and watching.

"That's not," Gilbert started, throat closing up and Ivan took a step toward him. "Your sister!"

Ivan turned around then to look at Natalia, having forgotten she was there. She blinked up at him, "Did you want me to go?"

"Please," Ivan said, smiling and saying the word cheerfully but with force behind it. Natalia paused for a moment longer before nodding and exiting, closing the door behind her.

"I can't breathe," Gilbert said, heading for the bathroom and Ivan caught him around the middle, pulling him against his chest.

"Don't you love me?" he asked and Gilbert froze before he tried to struggle away.

"Don't ask me that!" he snapped and Ivan's arms tightened around his chest. "You can't just fucking ask me that like it's nothing to say something like that!"

"I watched you," Ivan said, voice dropping. "When you were with Otho, when you worked, when you moved through the city like it owed everything to you, when you were sure of what you were doing and I wanted you."

"That's not love," Gilbert ground out, though he collapsed back against Ivan's chest. "That's... that's something else."

"I do love you though," Ivan said, voice bright, but his arms were still tight and his heartbeat had picked up with Gilbert's back pressed against it. "It's why I sought an alliance with Otho, it's why I couldn't kill you, it's why I trusted you with—" he cut off and Gilbert turned his head over his shoulder.

For a moment they just stared at each other. "I still can't breathe," Gilbert said faintly and Ivan dropped him but he didn't move away, only turning around and pressing his face against Ivan's shoulder so he wouldn't have to look at his expression anymore. "Fuck, Ivan, I can't do words, not those words."

"But do you feel something?" Ivan asked, voice high and desperate and Gilbert took a deep breath before tilting his head back enough that Ivan could see his eyes.

"Yeah," he managed and Ivan picked him up. "I feel something just please don't ask me to fucking say what it is because I—" Ivan cut him off, slamming their mouths together and Gilbert grabbed the side of his head and held on.

o-o-o

Alfonso poked his head into Antonio's room before he left the hospital. For a moment he considered poking his brother in the shoulder and telling him he was an idiot but decided to leave the pair entangled in the hospital bed alone.

Walking down the city streets, cigarette clamped between his teeth and hands shoved into his pockets he brooded on that image the entire way before knocking on the door of an apartment on the border between the Latin and Roman territories.

There was a moment of silence before rustling could be heard and the door opened, Carmen looking him over briefly before stepping back to let him inside. "You look terrible, lover.  Have you slept at all in the last couple of days?"

"Do naps in chairs count?" he asked. "Did you do it?" he asked, the large question that he had been thinking for hours, staring up at the ceiling.

She blinked at him, closing the door and locking it again, "Not to my knowledge.  As far as I know our House had no part in it."

"Good," he said, shoulders relaxing as he dropped the cigarette in the tray on the side table in the hallway. "God, I'm glad."

Carmen moved over to him, running her hands along his shoulders, "Are...no, not a good question.  Is he going to be alright?"

"He died," Alfonso said. "Just for a few seconds but his heart stopped." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "If he manages to take it easy he'll recover though. Try not to let Eva throw a party."

"I won't mention it," she promised. "Now, are you going to be alright?  And have you taken care of yourself at all since this happened?"

"No I haven't and hopefully I will now," he said, twining his arms around her waist and stepping closer. "It's been too long."

She let her hands slip along his shoulders, gently massaging as she went, "We've been busy and then this happened. I expect you to rest at some point, too.  After all, what are they to do if their doctor falls ill?"

"Well at the moment I'm not much needed anyway," he said, trying not to let that sting. He'd never finished medical school and the Houses certainly did not have the right supplies to cope with major injuries. He kissed her cheek, sliding a hand through her hair.

Leaning into the touch, she shook her head very slightly, "They'll need you when he comes home, and he needs you before that and you know it."

"I know love," he sighed. "I just don't always pay attention to what I know."

"Well, set it aside for the moment.  You are here to relax, no?" She said, knowing that at least part of the reason he had come was to ask the question which he had already voiced.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "I missed you."

"And I you.  It has been too long since I saw you last," Carmen replied.  "Do you want anything?"

He grinned at the question. "I think you would be a good start."

Her lips curled into a smile as she pulled him down to kiss him, "I think that could easily be arranged." She drew back, curling her hand in his shirtfront and drawing him with her toward the bedroom.

"Well, if you insist," he laughed, muscles loosening as he let her move him.

Once they reached the bedroom she slipped his shirt off and pushed him toward the bed, "Lie down, love.  Your back is a single knot right now."

"I hadn't noticed," he drawled, flopping down on the bed. For a moment he lay still before tilting his head back. "And you've been taking care of yourself?"

"I always do," she answered simply, moving over and running her fingers over his shoulders again before settling on the bed with him and starting to work on the muscles there.

"Is the implication that I don't?" he laughed before letting out a content sound and sinking further against the bed.

"Considering the state of your back?  And the fact that you've gotten no sleep except for 'naps in chairs'? Yes, dear, that is exactly the implication," she replied with a smile, leaning down to kiss the nape of his neck, her dark hair spilling across his skin.

He hummed, arching his back slightly. "Well, I suppose I can forgive you for that implication then," he said.

"I haven't had so much as a paper cut in a month, nearly a month and a half."  She worked her way slowly down his spine, "So I promise you that I am taking care of myself."

"Good," he said, and shifted, turning over and toppling her into a tangle of limbs that they eventually sorted out. It ended with him kissing her, his hands threading through her hair and down her back. "You're still wearing a shirt."

She smirked up at him, "Am I?  I never would have noticed, thank you for telling me."

"I'm here to do my part to make sure you're aware of everything you should be," he said, still kissing her, mouth moving away from her lips to drag along her jaw, down her throat.

She tilted her head back to allow him better access, "You always do such a fine job of that, but that shirt is going to be in the way in another, another moment here."

"The poor shirt," Alfonso laughed. "We're talking about it like it's not here." His fingers twisted around the second button but did nothing with it.

"You can sympathize with the piece of cloth later, love, after it's out of the way," she trailed her fingers down his chest before removing them and reaching for her own shirt.

Alfonso batted her hands away, face buried in her neck as he slowly teased the buttons open, pushing the fabric away.

Her laugh was breathless, "Don't tease."

"I'm not teasing, I'm savoring," he replied, but his grin said otherwise.

"Rogue," she replied, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You're doing both, you liar."

"Can't I multitask?" he asked before reaching the last button, pausing to smirk before pulling it off and tugging the whole piece of fabric off. "Of course, you are wearing even more underneath it."

"Well, that's a problem easily solved," she said with a smile, pushing him back so she could sit up and reach behind her, arching her back as she undid the clasp and discarded her shirt and brassiere, before rolling with him to flip them over with herself on top.

"Well that was efficient," he laughed, pulling her down against his chest.

Carmen smirked before capturing his mouth in a harsh kiss, "You're talking too much."

"Oh was I, I hadn't noticed," he said when she let him breathe again but he turned his attention away from words and toward touching every inch of skin he could reach.

o-o-o

Kiku looked around for the third time in as many minutes.  He had a good view of the entrance to the ice cream parlor, but he was still feeling jumpy.  He was pretty certain Alfred had gotten his message, he just hoped the other young man had been able to get away.

Only a few minutes late Alfred stormed into the parlor, zoning in on Kiku and bracing his hands on the table in front of him, leaning in to make sure he was relatively unharmed. "Kiku."

Kiku leaned back very slightly, "I'm alright, Alfred. As long as I take it easy and go carefully, I will heal with no adverse effects."  He slid out of his chair, "Let us take a walk?"

"Yes," Alfred agreed, hands still tight at his sides.

Kiku slipped out of the parlor, waiting for Alfred before starting down the street, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Stressed but I'm not really the issue here."

"I am going to be just fine," Kiku assured again.  "There's a church around the corner."

Alfred reached out without looking, taking one of his hands and squeezing it tightly. "So we're sticking with churches."

"Today, yes. I am not sure where else to go right now," Kiku admitted.

"I don't mind," Alfred said, swallowing and not looking over.

They reached a church and slipped inside.  Kiku glanced around before turning and stretching up to brush Alfred's hair back, "I, I had wanted to see you the day after this happened."

"Yes you had," Alfred said, dragging Kiku toward him and then hesitating, turning his actions more gentle.

"I, I wanted to talk to you.  To tell you that, that," he swallowed and drew Alfred down into a gentle kiss.  When he pulled back he was blushing, "to tell you that I am pretty sure I am in, in love with you."

Alfred stared at him in surprise, fingers tightening on Kiku's hips. "You wanted to see me to tell me that?"

Kiku nodded, looking slightly uncertain, "Yes."

"God damn it," Alfred managed, tilting down to kiss him again. "Where were you shot?"

"Right arm," Kiku answered, having been careful to keep the arm close to his side, though he wasn't wearing a sling when away from the House.

Alfred carefully hitched his arm around Kiku's waist and then dragged him closer, kissing him. Their motions were still awkward, figuring out how to make it work but he tried pushing the embrace deeper. Kiku made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he rose up on his tiptoes to press into the kiss, even though it off balanced him slightly.

Pulling back, Alfred tried to draw a deep breath and only managed several small ones. "You were going to tell me you loved me and Cameron shot you?"

"Don’t do anything reckless," Kiku murmured.  "But, yes.  That, that is what happened."

"God," Alfred said, resting his forehead against Kiku's. "God, Kiku. I was so scared."

"I am so sorry.  We, we knew it was a risk.  Are you, how did you find out?"

"Cameron came slinking in and said he shot the heir," Alfred said. "I was," he laughed, a shade hysterical. "I'd been making a sandwich and thinking about the next day."

"Shh, I am alright.  Or I will be.  I am healing." Kiku smoothed his left hand over Alfred's brow.

"You almost weren't," he said. "You almost weren't and what about next time? Damn it. This is why I never wanted to love someone and now we're stuck and I can't lose you."

"I will be very, very careful.  You, you must be too," Kiku insisted.

"I will be," Alfred promised. "I'll be so damn careful." He kissed Kiku's temple, inching him closer. "I wish I could save you, could whisk you away and travel the world with you."

Kiku leaned his head against Alfred's chest, "I wish you could, as well.  But we have duties here."

"Why?" Alfred asked. "Why don't we run the fuck away? There's nothing this city is going to do for us."

The smaller man pushed away slightly, taking a step back, "Do you remember Leon?"

"Yeah?" Alfred frowned after him. "Course I do. He was just a kid when he left though."

"Well, he has grown up. He is almost an adult now.  And as tempting as leaving with you is, I, I have had a chance to talk with him more in the last couple of weeks than I have taken before. It is hard to articulate why, but, but it has given me hope that there could be _something_ else that this city could give us."

"A possibly far out death with a lot of pain between now and then?" Alfred offered in reply.

"A chance to do some good between now and then," Kiku replied.

"But it's just a chance," Alfred said, reaching for him again. "It's a chance against our lives."

"Alfred, we _can't_ leave."

"Why not?" Alfred repeated, voice rising and echoing off the spires of the church before coming back down. "Why not, Kiku? We could have a life somewhere."

"At the cost of _everything_ we know," Kiku replied.  "It is not just about us."

"You love me don't you?" Alfred asked, hands going to his waist and pulling. "Wouldn't we be worth it? Wouldn't a life be worth starting over?"

"And what would we do somewhere else?" He asked, shaking his head very slightly.  "Alfred, please, realistically we will have better lives here, as, as horrible and risky as they may be."

"And next time you get shot?" Alfred asked. "Will you still think that?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to _do_?  We have duties here, people who rely on us to be here, to come into the positions we are supposed to."

Alfred looked away without releasing him. "I want to take you around the world," he said faintly. "You want to travel and I want to get out of here. I just wish we could."

"I know, but we, we can't." Kiku murmured, reaching up to place his hand on Alfred's cheek, "I am sorry."

"I know," Alfred said, catching his hand and leaning his cheek against it. "I know."

"We will be alright, Alfred."

"I wish I could save you," Alfred said, and leaned down, pulling Kiku up to meet him.

Kiku leaned into the kiss, his hand tangling in Alfred's hair, "I know.  I do not need saving, though."

"I still wanna," Alfred said, offering him a strained smile. "I want to save everyone but you most of all."

"I know you do," Kiku managed a fond smile at that.  "And it is one of the things that makes you...you."

"And you love me," Alfred said with a smile like he was still marveling at the idea.

The other nodded in response, "Very much."

"So what are we gonna do then?" he asked, leaning his forehead against Kiku's. "Today, tomorrow, forever, what are we gonna do with ourselves?"

"I, I honestly do not know.  All I know is that I want there to be an 'us'," Kiku answered softly.

"Oh thank god," Alfred laughed, the sound hysterical. "If you hadn't I don't know what I would have done."

Kiku shook his head very slightly, brushing his hand through Alfred's hair again, "Did you think I would say something else?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm not really feeling on stable ground right now, you know?"

"I know.  But, but I am alright.  I am healing.  And we, we are making it."

Instead of replying, Alfred tilted his chin up and kissed him again. He finally seemed to figure out the right angle to press their mouths together. Kiku slipped his left arm around the back of Alfred's neck, pulling him down a bit further as he leaned up into the kiss, his lips parting.

Making a sound like the air had been punched out of his lungs, Alfred licked inside, not having dared do so before. Lips parting further at that, Kiku came very close to moaning as he pulled himself closer to Alfred.

"I want," Alfred said, voice high and breathless. "Fuck. I want a lot of things."

"We will have more time, Alfred," Kiku promised.  "But, but not today."

"Fuck," Alfred groaned, fingers tightening against his hipbones.

"Mei will not be happy if I am gone too long," he murmured.

"You can tell her the other option was running away," Alfred said, kissing the side of Kiku's neck and holding on.

Kiku's laughter held a mild hint of hysterics, "I do not believe that would go well."

"I don't care," Alfred said, almost a groan. "When will we have the time?"

"I don't, I don't know.  But I am injured and she is more concerned with where I am and when because of it."

"I want," Alfred said again, almost a growl. "I never have before."

Kiku hesitated, "Where would we even...?"

"I don't know," he said, his laugh a shade hysterical. "I cased a hotel a week ago and realized what I was doing and ran. A church... a church is just..."

"A little too sacrilegious even for those of us who do not believe it," Kiku replied. "I...if we can find a place we could, we could meet."

"I miss you when I'm not seeing you," Alfred said. "Which is all the fucking time. I just wish there was somewhere we could find."

"I, I know.  We will, we will find somewhere."

Alfred groaned again, tipping him back to kiss him. Kiku kissed him back and stepped away, catching his balance against one of the pews in the church.

Looking like he wanted to shove Kiku down on the pew, Alfred took a step back. "When?"

"Soon.  As, as soon as we can."

Alfred swallowed hard. "Alright."

"We should, we should get back," Kiku managed, looking toward the main doors of the church.

"We've probably defiled this church enough for one day," Alfred agreed, voice hoarse. The smaller man hesitated before stretching up to kiss him again, briefly, and then stepped back and turned toward the door. "I can walk you to the metro at least," Alfred said.

"I, I would like that.  But are we sure that, are we sure that is a good idea?"

"It never is," Alfred said and held his hand out. Kiku hesitated for a brief moment and took Alfred's hand, offering him a smile.

o-o-o

Opening the locks with different keys, Nataraja pushed the door open, dropping his hat on the door side table and tensing when he thought he heard someone.

Slinking through his apartment, he stopped and stared at the man spread out over his couch.

Kasem Jainukul waved a hand at him, "You have got to get better locks on your bathroom window.  I don't care that it's more than five feet to the fire escape, or that it's a half-frame window.  One lock is not adequate once the screen is off.  Oh," he swung his legs over to sit up, "I think I broke your soap dispenser.  In fact, I know I did.  I'll replace that."

"Good," Nataraja said, voice mild. "I liked that soap dispenser. Luckily it wasn't sentimental."

"I don't think I've known you to have anything sentimental," Kasem answered, laying back again and draping one of his arms along the back of the couch. "Good to see you back."

"I've been back for a while, where have you been hiding?" he asked, dropping his coat over the back of the couch and over Kasem's leg.

"I had a friend I knew just before I came to the city.  He was getting married, I thought I'd make an appearance. I have no idea how you acted as go between on your own for as long as you did," he answered, letting his head fall back over the arm of the couch.

"Why do you think I pegged you as my partner?" Nataraja asked. "Because it's a fucking hell. I'm glad you survived though."

"So, yeah, I heard you were back in town and skipped out for a few days," Kasem said. "How do you like the latest mess?"

"You could have waited to say hello," Nataraja scowled, shoving Kasem's legs over so he could sit and allowing them to settle back on his lap. "This mess is a mess but it's not about to set itself on fire."

"And the permanent mess on the other side of town? The one we can't do anything with because Yao hates you and I avoid Arthur?"

Nataraja shrugged. "That's not about to set fire to itself either," he said. "They've been at each other's throats too long."

Kasem nodded, "And you're sure that the Russians and Germans aren't going to do anything right now?"

"At the moment?" Nataraja shrugged. "I should probably check again but it's about sex not violence and while that may still be fucked it's not the same."

He snorted, "What a choice of words."

"I like to think there's a certain poetry to it," Nataraja said, waving one of his hands around. "Did you miss me much then?"

"You have _no_ idea.  I am so glad you're back because I no longer have to deal with this on my own.  I am in awe of you like I haven't been before," he said, draping an arm over his eyes.

Nataraja lifted one of his knees, jostling Kasem's legs. "Just that?"

"Well, and it's always nice to have something that sure sounds like a friend around," he admitted.

"Sounds like a friend?" Nataraja laughed.

Kasem grinned at him, "I could call you a friend.  It's good to have you back, I've missed having you around."

"You're so kind," Nataraja drawled, dropping his head back against the couch.

"I think it's only fair to ask if you missed me too."

"It is fair," Nataraja agreed, tone mild.

"So?  Did you miss me?" Kasem asked with a grin.

Nataraja lifted his head enough to look over. "Yes," he said after another moment. "I did miss you. Not you breaking into my apartment, however."

"I'm the reason you still have this apartment," Kasem replied.  "Oh, also...can I stay here for a night, maybe two?"

"Why?" Nataraja arched a brow, not commenting on whether his first statement was true or not.

"Because my apartment is being repaired.  The place upstairs got a water leak or something."

"It doesn't sound like a very good place," Nataraja remarked. "Which is not an offer, mind."

"Well, I'm looking for a new place, but I still haven't found one," came the off-hand answer.

"Is there something you're not actually telling me?" Nataraja asked.

"Beyond the fact that my current apartment is a hell hole, and I'm not quite in the black enough to make an initial deposit?" He asked, paying a lot of attention to his fingers instead.

"Yeah, like how you got into that situation in the first place," Nataraja frowned.

Kasem looked hesitant, "I have not been managing my funds very well.  It, it wasn't anything specific.  Not really."

"I'm sure I taught you better than that," Nataraja frowned over at him.

Kasem huffed and pulled his legs in to swing them off the couch and get to his feet, "You know what, forget it.  I'll make do with where I'm at."

Nataraja grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him back down onto the couch. "You already seemed so comfortable here and I sure as hell am not giving up the bed."

"If I stay here you will continue to ask about why I'm in this situation, won't you?" Kasem glanced at him, resigning himself to not leaving.

"I may make some pointed comments," he shrugged. "Besides isn't that what friends are for?"

He sighed quietly, "Yeah, probably. I ran into some problems with some lower levels in the English territory.  It didn't go well and so I'm a little tight right now, that's all."

Nataraja scowled and looked at the ceiling. "It always does seem to be the fucking English, doesn't it?"

"I don't know that it ever went up the ladder.  It was low-level, like I said," Kasem replied quietly. "But, yeah, if it's not them it's the Asian House."

"We should avoid them both," Nataraja decided. "If they go to war it's their own fault and I'd like nothing to do with it."

Kasem nodded, "No argument here. I'd rather not get caught up in that mess."

"And I should apparently not let you get up to things on your own," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, that too.  I was doing pretty well, except for the trouble with the English House.  Which, I will admit, has thoroughly screwed me for a long time to come." Kasem admitted.

Nataraja looked at him for a moment before laughing and shaking his head. "You'll be fine in time. Just learn to do better."

Kasem leaned his head back against the couch, grinning slightly, "Yeah, I think this might be enough to actually teach me something."

"I should abandon you more often," Nataraja laughed, not meaning it.

"Oh please don't," Kasem said, shooting him a look that may have held a hint of panic.

That earned a full laugh from Nataraja. "Alright, I'll try to find a way to stay."

Kasem stretched, glancing over and offering him a grin, "You sure as hell better.  This city goes to pieces without you here."

Nataraja hummed, pushing himself to his feet. "Just try not to fall off the couch in the middle of the night."

"I am capable of that much at least," Kasem answered, stretching out on the couch again.  "Thank you."

Nataraja hesitated, and leaned down to ruffle Kasem's hair. "Good to see you again," he said, before breezing into the bathroom. Kasem lay there for a few minutes before shoving himself to his feet and finding a blanket to set up a bed on the couch for the night.  It was good to have the other back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually we'll actually get a comprehensive list of names up, but for the sake of reference: Kasem is the name we've chosen for Thailand.
> 
> Oh, and as of this chapter we have had to break the story into two documents on Microsoft Word--this chapter ended on page 498. >.> This was supposed to be a short fic.
> 
> And your final note from VS: Foreshadowing thou art a heartless bitch


	25. Don't Be Beautifully Tragic

Sigurd stopped at the open door to Matthias' office, still surprised to find it so. Peering around the doorframe, he frowned to see Matthias bent over the desk, squinting at the papers in front of his nose. "You need glasses, don't you?" he asked, not sounding impressed as Matthias startled.

"Shut up," he glared over the top of the papers. "I'm fine."

Sigurd hummed, stepping into the office and considering it. "I'm assuming Berwald hasn't figured that out or you'd be already wearing a pair."

"I'm not that whipped," Matthias protested. "Even if he has established a bed time for my own health."

"Which you'll keep," Sigurd said without asking and Matthias groaned. "For your health of course."

"Of course," Matthias said, throwing a piece of waded up scrap paper at Sigurd's head. "If by my health you mean—"

"Don't be crude," Sigurd interrupted, moving around the office until he noticed the filing cabinets. Walking over as Matthias laughed, he pulled the top drawer open. For a long moment he didn't react before looking over. "I truly never knew you could be organized."

"Just crude?" Matthias returned and Sigurd nodded, opening the next several drawers.

"This is amazing," he said and Matthias looked caught between shock and preening. "This—" he stopped, shaking his head at the neatly labeled folders. It looked entirely official and correct except for the headings on illicit trade and trafficking and death certificates and murder statistics. "Do you have records from before?"

"Everything the old Head had," Matthias said, rising and bending down to pull open the bottom drawer, handing Sigurd only thee files, the corner of the top one burned off. "What records there were got destroyed with the old house."

"We almost were too," Sigurd said, voice dropping to remember the sounds of gunfire and the smells of smoke as he clung to the taller Matthias with one hand, his other arm wrapped around Eirik's baby chest. When Berwald came stumbling through a collapsing wall they all ran, hiding under a nearby bridge until the old Head and Tino found them, Matthias standing over the other three smaller forms until he recognized the man coming toward him.

"Yeah," Matthias said softly and Sigurd snapped his attention away from the burned corner. "But we got through it. We're still here." Even though the house, their base of wealth and many of their families were not.

"And you're still protecting us," Sigurd murmured, flipping the files open and refusing to look up at the pained sound that came from Matthias. "Do you remember your parents?"

"Sortta," Matthias shrugged. "I mean, I know my mom's face and the smell of dad but it's not, it's not as strong as I wish it was sometimes."

"I don't have memories before the fire," Sigurd said, still not looking up. "Not really. Sometimes I feel like I was born in that moment." Standing behind Matthias and protecting Eirik and more often than not he was sure he'd never really left that behind. "Did you know Eirik was my brother?" he asked, finally looking up and closing the files.

"Yeah," Matthias said and Sigurd's eyes narrowed. "Sortta. I mean, I don't remember much but you called him brother since he was brought home from the hospital. I guess it seemed like we were all family, you know? If you really wanted to know, you'd figure it out."

"He did a blood test," Sigurd said, handing him back the files. "He figured it out."

Matthias winced, returning the files to where they belonged. "I'm sorry. I never really thought that... that what we had wasn't enough."

"I don't think that's why," Sigurd said and refused to elaborate when Matthias gave him a questioning look. "I wish you had told us though."

"Does blood really matter when we're all we have?" Matthias asked and Sigurd paused before shaking his head. "I hope you work it out," Matthias added.

"Just get glasses," Sigurd returned. "Before I tell Berwald you need them." He allowed Matthias' offended yelp to follow him out of the office, stomach churning with memories and questions about blood and family and the way Berwald and Matthias looked at each other now.

Eirik was on his way downstairs, wearing his contacts for once. He paused when he caught sight of Sigurd and seriously considered retreating again.  Deciding that was a childish response, he steeled himself and finished his descent, pausing again at the bottom of the stairs.

Sigurd paused, looking over at him. "Why don't you call me big brother?"

He startled very slightly, but shrugged, "Should I?"

"Aren't I?" Sigurd asked. "You're the one who wanted to find out."

It just figured that the day he decided he could possibly face Sigurd was the day the other decided to actually ask questions, "You told me it didn't really change anything.  Do you want me to call you," he hesitated briefly and couldn't actually say it, "that?"

"I'm more interested in why you choose not to," Sigurd said, leaning against the banister and watching him through half-lidded eyes.

"If it doesn't change anything, why does it matter?" Eirik asked, frowning, but holding his ground.

"Because you're the one who went through all the trouble and then refuses to acknowledge that you did."

"Because I didn't expect it to turn up positive!" Eirik snapped.

"Then why did you do it?" Sigurd said, voice not quite a snarl.

Eirik darted a glance back up the stairs, as though he would bolt back up them and barricade himself in his room, "Because I had to know for sure."

"At least call me big brother now that you've found out."

He shook his head quickly, "I can't.  I just...I can't."

"Why not?" Sigurd asked, tilting forward slightly, one hand resting on the banister.

Leaning away from Sigurd, Eirik swallowed, "Why does it matter?"

"Just accept that it does," Sigurd replied.

"Because what I feel for you sure isn't what a brother should," Eirik answered before backpedalling up several stairs. Sigurd didn't follow him but watched him like he expected him to say something else. Eirik hesitated, still poised to bolt, "What?"

Stepping up the first step, Sigurd didn't look away. "Why does it matter so much to you? It's a test, Eirik, not our lives."

"I already answered that."

"Either call me brother or don't act like that's what we are," Sigurd said, stopping with space still between them.

Eirik retreated up two more steps, never taking his eyes off of Sigurd, "I haven't thought of you as my brother in years."

"Then don't act like this changes anything," Sigurd said, following him, backing him up the stairs. "I told Tino he really needs to find a girl and have lots of children."

Eirik felt his back hit the wall at the top of the stairs, eyes widening, "You, you mean..."  The words sank in and his expression changed to one of incredulity, "you told him _what_?"

Sigurd shrugged. "None of the rest of us seemed capable of it."

"What, what does that mean?"

Sigurd leveled him with a look. "You're capable of figuring that out, aren't you?"

"You're serious?" Eirik frowned, shocked by the possibility he still wasn't certain he believed.

"Have I never not been?" Sigurd asked, still unable to put his feelings into words.

"No, you always say what you mean," the younger man murmured.

"Then put it together," Sigurd said and turned to go down the hallway.

Eirik paused, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had all but been directly told that something he'd wanted for years was actually a possibility.  He pushed off from the wall and followed Sigurd, "Wait."

Stopping, Sigurd tilted his head back. "Yeah?"

"You honestly mean it."  He paused for another moment before darting forward and kissing Sigurd, deciding that if he had misunderstood he would rather take the risk and get pushed away than not risk it.

Sigurd paused, clearly surprised that Eirik actually followed him before he tilted his head down, keeping the kiss gentle. Eirik wrapped his arms around Sigurd's neck, leaning up further into the kiss when he realized the other was responding.

"Sh," Sigurd said when he pulled back. "Do you believe me now?"

The younger man drew back, nodding, "Yes, yes I do."

"Was that so hard?" Sigurd asked, tilting his head, one hand on Eirik's waist the other lightly fingering his hair.

Eirik leaned into the touch, "I wasn't sure.  I've wanted to hear that so long that I wasn't sure that you actually..."  He shook his head, "No, I suppose it wasn't so hard."

"For so long? How long?" Sigurd asked and started moving back slightly, inching into the nearest room so they weren't in the hallway.

"You," he paused, "You were my teenage fantasy if that answers your question."

"How did _I_ become anyone's teenage fantasy?" he asked in clear surprise.

Eirik blinked at him, "Are you serious?"

Sigurd shrugged slightly. "Yes." He recalled spending most of Eirik's teenage years hitting Matthias over the head with newspapers and being stubbornly and angrily quiet.

"You were always there for me in one way or another, even when I _really_ didn't want you to be.  You're gorgeous, and, well, mostly those things."

Sigurd blinked, obviously surprised. "But," he started and shook his head. "I was talking to Matthias, about the House before. You don't remember when the old house was destroyed, do you?"

Eirik shook his head, "Beyond _really_ not liking fire?"

"I remember standing behind Matthias and protecting you," Sigurd said. "And I've never stopped."

Eirik offered a faint smile, "I, as much as I bitch, I appreciate it.  And I don't want you to stop."

"It's sortta messed up though," he mused, still touching Eirik's hair. "To be in love with someone for so long, before you know what the words mean."

"We've always been messed up, though," Eirik answered.  "You're going to nag more about my eyes aren't you?"

"Always," Sigurd agreed.

Eirik groaned slightly, letting his head fall against Sigurd's shoulder, "I just gave you a pass for it too, didn't I?"

Sigurd laughed, a quiet chuckle that was barely heard as he leaned down to kiss Eirik again rather than agree, his thumb resting below Eirik's eye. Humming into the kiss, Eirik reached up to comb his fingers into Sigurd's hair. Taking a breath, Sigurd drew back and stepped fully back. "Well then."

Eirik caught himself before he took a step to follow Sigurd, "Anything else?"

"How do you mean?" Sigurd asked and took another step back to see what would happen.

Eirik's hand twitched as though he started to reach out but stopped himself, "'Well then' isn't, it's rather neutral, isn't it?"

Sigurd took a breath, almost asking Eirik if he remembered who he was. "I'm not Matthias," he said. "I'm not very good at not being neutral."

Frowning at him, Eirik finally took a solid step toward him, "Not even a little bit?"

Sigurd's breath caught. "Alright, somewhat. I thought I had been at least on one side of neutral."

Stepping forward again so there was barely a handbreadth of space between them, Eirik looked up at him, "And then gave the most neutral comment possible after that."

"What did you want me to do?" Sigurd asked, no longer backing up but watching Eirik.

"I don't..." he paused, "Kiss me again."

"You've gotten demanding," Sigured murmured but leaned down to kiss him anyway.

Eirik pressed up into the kiss, relaxing against Sigurd before drawing back only just enough to speak, his lips still brushing the other's, "You asked what I wanted you to do."

"Yes," Sigurd agreed.

"Well, that's what I wanted you to do."

Sigurd let out a breath, glad he hadn't asked for more yet before tilting his head. "And that's all? To stand here kissing you?"

"What are you asking?" Eirik responded, watching him with a frown creasing his forehead slightly.

"Nothing," Sigurd shook his head and kissed him again.

Eirik drew back slightly, "For now this is what I want. I'm still trying to believe this is real."  He shook his head at himself and leaned in to kiss Sigurd.

"I read you too many fairy stories, didn't I?" Sigurd asked, kissing his cheek.

"You read me the sorts of fairy stories that could be really depressing," Eirik replied, not denying that Sigurd might have read him a few too many.

"All good ones are," Sigurd said. "Even if the Little Mermaid is forever tainted by being Matthias' favorite."

"I like that one, though," Eirik insisted. "It's beautifully tragic."

Sigurd started to nod and then changed the motion to pull Eirik toward him. " _Don't_ ," he said with more force than he expended on paragraphs most day, "be beautifully tragic."

"I have no plans of turning to sea foam, or of singing until my blood stains a rose," Eirik replied, the closest Sigurd would get to a promise of caution.

"If we're going with the Wilde references I'd hope you not give away your eyes to help the poor of any city either," Sigurd said, not having relaxed yet.

Eirik shook his head, "I'm far too selfish to do that."

"Thank god for the small favors," Sigurd said, shaking his head.

Smoothing his hands over Sigurd's shoulders, Eirik shook his head, "Just because I like to read these things doesn't mean I'd ever act in a way illustrated."

"Good," Sigurd said, letting out a breath. He glanced at the door and back to Eirik. "Tino and I have work tonight."

Eirik paused at that, "How much of a risk is this bit of work?"

"Low," Sigurd said. "As much as this sort of risk can ever be."

"Good," he said quietly.

"I'll come back safely," Sigurd assured. "And we can talk."

Eirik nodded, finally stepping back, "You'd better." Sigurd kissed his temple and flew down the stairs to find Tino before he did anything else.

o-o-o

Shifting through messages on his phone, Ivan frowned down at the small screen. He would have preferred paper but no longer trusted the medium, especially with Gilbert as like as anything to show up and sit on the edge of his desk. Even though they shared Ivan's bed now, trust came slowly if at all.

There was a quiet tap on the door before Toris opened it and slipped inside, balancing a tray with Ivan's lunch. "Ah, thank you, Toris," Ivan said with a distracted smile.

"Of, of course sir.  Is, is there anything else I can, can do for you?" Toris asked, setting the tray down at an empty place on the desk.

Hesitating for a moment, Ivan looked up, setting his phone down and crossing his fingers together. "How often have you gone to see Feliks?"

"Do, do you mean r-recently?" Toris fell very still, not sure where the questions were headed and not liking it.

"Yes," Ivan agreed, smiling vaguely at him, hands laced under his chin.

"A-a few times.  Once, once a week.  Sometimes l-less."  He paused, "When I have, have time off."

"Are you happy?" Ivan asked, not moving even though his tone implied something else boiling underneath the surface of his question.

Toris seemed to search for an answer to that question, trying to find one that was both honest and safe and feeling like he had no chance of that, "I-I have little, little reason n-not to be."

Ivan stopped smiling and frowned. "No?"

Wrong answer, Toris could feel his panic spike at that, but he shook his head, "I-I miss him, but, but I'm part, part of the House."

"Why do you keep going to him?" Ivan asked.

"Because, because he's," Toris paused for a long moment before answering, "he's important to, to me."

"Why?" Ivan asked, eyes opening and one hand dropping down to twine around his scarf as he watched Toris.

"F-for a long time he, he was all I had," Toris answered quietly, not meeting Ivan's eyes.

"He's not all you have now," Ivan said. "You are part of the House and that means the entire House is yours, does it not?"

Toris swallowed and nodded, "Yes, yes sir it does."

"But you still want him," Ivan said and his voice had dropped, not in anger but sounding sad.

Keeping himself still, rather than take a step back, Toris answered after a long moment, "I do. I can't, I can't help that."

"What do you talk about?" Ivan asked.

"Mostly, mostly how his work is going, what, what he's been doing," Toris answered.  "Or, other things that don't, don't matter.  We just, well, spend time together.  There's not, not really anything specific."

"He's in a very dangerous position," Ivan said slowly, watching Toris. "To be between the different Houses. It's dangerous to care about people like that."

Toris finally glanced up, nodding almost imperceptibly, "I know.  But he, he wouldn't do, wouldn't do anything, sir."

"Anything?" Ivan asked.

"Against, against the H-House," he clarified.

Ivan nodded slightly, considering that. "And you trust him that much?"

"I-I do, sir," Toris replied quietly.

Leaning back, Ivan crossed one of his knees over the other and steepled his fingers. "You have a lot of faith in someone outside of the House then," he said, voice still soft.

Toris rocked back slightly at that, "It, it's Feliks. I-I would trust him with m-my life."

Ivan's eyes widened and he fell silent for a long moment as he absorbed that. "To trust someone with your life," he murmured, more to himself than to Toris. "Are you quite certain about that?"

The brunet hesitated, not sure he should have said that in the first place, "Y-yes."

Ivan looked down at his desk, thinking about the easy way Gilbert threw his head back and spread his arms out to laugh, and the expression in his eyes when he had discovered the scars under his scarf. "That must be—" he started and shook his head.

"Is, is there anything else, sir?"

Ivan shook his head, already going back to phone. "Thank you for bringing lunch, Toris."

"Of course," Toris murmured, offering a half bow before slipping out of the room.

o-o-o

Lovino hesitated outside of Antonio's bedroom door, his hand resting on the handle.  Drawing a deep breath he opened the door, slipped inside and crossed to the bedside, sitting down on the edge.  They needed to talk, but the more he thought about it the less he wanted to have the conversation.

Laid out on his side, Antonio glanced up to make sure it was Lovino before twining their fingers together. "If I'm never put on bed rest again, it'll be too soon."

Lovino nodded, "You'll have to take better care, then."

"Thought I was taking decent care," Antonio muttered.

"Not letting your guard do his job and watch your back," Lovino replied, sharply.  "We need to talk."

"Yes, you'd indicated that," Antonio said, not rolling over but propping his head up with his free hand.

"I need a different job in the House," Lovino said, looking down at their entwined hands, the light catching the ring on his right forefinger.

Antonio sighed, tugging him forward and raising his hand to kiss the knuckle above the ring. "When I said that, you stopped talking to me for a month, accused me of wanting your brother, and got yourself beat up."

"I did, yes," Lovino admitted mutedly. "I knew what it meant to be in that position, but I didn't really _know_. You take stupid risks with me as your guard.  It almost got you killed."

"I had certainly tried to warn you of that," Antonio said. "I can't be the Head of this House around you because I can't lose you."

Lovino ran his free hand over his face, looking at the corner where Feliciano's painting hung before returning his gaze to Antonio, "You'll need another guard.  Lars is good, but he sometimes loses track of certain angles and I don't like sending you out with just him."  He paused, "I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

"Lovino," Antonio said, watching him. "You're a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma but it doesn't matter to me _what_ you do. I just want you and I want you to be happy."

"I know you do," he sighed, squeezing Antonio's fingers gently. "I have to have something, though.  You know that. I'm not Feliciano.  I can't sit out of the active side of this life."  He would swear he could feel the press of metal against the back of his ankle again, "I have to _do_ something."

"I know," Antonio murmured. "If I ever entertained fantasies of a housewife or a harem I think they're long gone."

Lovino's fingers twitched at those words, but he nodded, "So, we'll figure that out.  And we'll find a new guard for you.  Because like hell I'm letting you have just one."

Antonio nodded, looking for his eyes. "It was a joke, Lovi. About the harem."

Meeting Antonio's eyes he offered the older man a ghost of a smile, "I know."  He paused before leaning over to kiss Antonio very lightly, careful not to jar him.

Antonio made a discontent rumbling sound. "How long until Alfonso said I could move around again?"

"I think there were comments that sounded like a week," Lovino muttered, drawing back again.

Antonio growled, threading his fingers through Lovino's hair. "That's too long."

"You died, Antonio.  For once?  I'm taking your brother's side," Lovino said, but leaned into the touch regardless.

Growling again, Antonio dragged him back down. "So I don't get a reward for surviving?"

Lovino swung his legs onto the bed so he lay next to Antonio, "You will. I just," he paused for a long moment. "You're always talking about how you can't lose me, right?  Well, 'Tonio, I lost you.  Just for, just for a moment, but it was enough.  I'm not taking a risk of injuring you right now."

Antonio stilled, finally letting out a pained breath and cupping Lovino's face. "I told you that I didn't want to leave you, didn't I?"

"Someday," Lovino hesitated, "someday you might not have a choice."

"Don't—" Antonio managed. "You know my last thought before I woke up in the hospital was that I was sad and angry that I was leaving you?"

Shaking off Antonio's hands, Lovino carefully curled closer to the other, resting his forehead against Antonio's chest, "But you didn't.  You're, you're still here."

"That doesn't change how much I didn't want to go," Antonio said, resting his chin against the top of Lovino's hair.

"I'm glad," he murmured, letting his hazel eyes close.  "I'm glad you stayed. I...I don't know what I would've done."

"But I'm still here," Antonio said, twining his arms around Lovino and squeezing him hard but trying to be careful of his injuries. "And so are you, see? I made it work, like I always do," and his easy smile felt hard.

Lovino fell very still at that, though his voice was thick when he finally spoke again, "Yeah.  You're always good at making things work. We'll, we'll be alright."

"It's why I'm in charge," Antonio said and buried his face just in case he started to cry.

"Better damn well stay there," Lovino muttered, face still pressed to Antonio's chest.  "No one else can make this insanity work."

Antonio's laugh was hysteric and he broke it off in a pained gasp. "Alright. I'll stay here forever, how's that sound?"

"Careful you idiot," Lovino said automatically before nodding very slightly. "Forever sounds just right."

"I'll have to go work on being immortal then," Antonio said. "It wouldn't take too long."

Lovino swallowed hard, not sure how he felt about the turn the conversation had taken.  He didn't want to think about Antonio's mortality more than he had to right then, "Let's start with right now, and, and work from there."

"Alright," Antonio agreed. "We'll start there."

Finally drawing back enough to look up at Antonio, Lovino tilted his head very slightly, "You're, you're going to be alright though."

Antonio decided against saying anything about Lovino sounding like he was convincing himself. "And in a few days I'll be as good as new."

Lovino nodded, hesitating again and deciding that he would risk Alfonso's wrath if need be.  He leaned up and kissed Antonio again, as much to reassure himself that the other really was there as anything.

"So who would you recommend?" Antonio asked when the kiss ended to keep his mind on anything except how warm the other felt.

"I'm not sure yet," he admitted.  "I'm not sure there's anyone I trust with your life, but you might consider Allende, D'Amico, or Trier.  They're all good at what they do, and are very loyal to the House."

Antonio nodded vaguely. "But none are you."

"No, none are me.  Which in this case isn't a bad thing."

"In some ways," Antonio said. "God, to think I wanted something and now that I'm being given it I complain."

Lovino pushed himself up to rest on his elbow and look at Antonio, "Having me as your guard almost got you killed, Antonio.  Because you won't let me take the risks that a guard is supposed to. I can't go on jobs with you anymore and I'm sure as fuck not letting you go on them with only one guard after this fiasco."

"I know," Antonio said, reaching his hands up to touch Lovino's face again. "You can't do your job and I can't do mine but who else do I trust? And," his fingers trailed down to his throat. "It means I wouldn't see you every day in and out."

"I don't know who to trust.  I'm so very much the wrong person to ask," Lovino answered, tilting his head back.  "And I'll still be here when you get back from any meets."

"It's different to know you'll be with me," Antonio said. "God. We are so messed up."

"At least we know we are," Lovino's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I mean, negotiations I might be able to come with you.  But I would feel better if you had a different guard."

"Alright," Antonio agreed. "I can always talk to Bella and Lars, as well as Allende."

His lover nodded, "Thank you."

"Will you at least sleep here tonight?" Antonio asked.

"Alfonso will have my hide," Lovino replied.  "I'm not sure I care though," he needed the other's proximity, the ability to wake up and know immediately that Antonio was still breathing.

"I just said sleep," Antonio laughed, shaking his head. "Anything else we get up to isn't his business."

Lovino's lips curved upward, "I'm pretty sure Alfonso thinks that us breathing in the same space is enough to risk straining your injuries."

Antonio almost laughed and barely managed not then. "Then we have more than gotten past that point."

"I can sleep here tonight, yes," Lovino said, curling close again.

"I could touch you," Antonio mused, hands resting on Lovino's back. "That wouldn't strain me that much."

Lovino shook his head after a brief moment, "No.  I just need you to hold me.  Nothing more."

Smiling faintly, Antonio kissed his temple. "Alright."

Relaxing against Antonio, Lovino let his hand rest over the other's heart, feeling the steady beat beneath his palm and letting it ease the tension from him, "Should sleep."

o-o-o

Though Gilbert's movements were mostly constrained to a small area of the mansion, Winter no longer stood at his doorway and he could move from Ivan's room to his small chamber with no hindrance and any unlocked door in between had not gotten him in trouble. Most of the rooms were either empty or filled with covered furniture anyway.

As he still could not leave the house, he had started using one of the empty rooms to exercise, working through every possible routine he could remember from different strength training or martial arts that was possible to do without space or a gun range. Sometimes his fingers itched to hold a gun again but then Ivan would pin his hands to the bed and that battle became enough. Sex was almost enough to replace violence when Ivan was in the picture.

Pushing himself to a sitting position, he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and froze when the door creaked open.

Natalia stepped inside and blinked at him for a long moment before closing the door behind her, effectively trapping him inside with her, "So this is where you hide."

"Sometimes," he agreed, eyes going to the door and back to her but not moving from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. Instead he draped his elbows over his knees and arched a brow. "And it's not really hiding."

"I haven't seen you since you tried to hide in Ivan's bathroom," she said, as though that proved he was actually hiding.

Gilbert blinked once. "I don't make a habit of it, anyway."

"You're still sleeping with Ivan," it was far from a question.

"Is there a reason I should have stopped?" Gilbert asked, tilting his head to one side.

She pulled out a knife, toying with it, "I don't know.  Why are you?"

"Why am I?" Gilbert frowned. "Why am I sleeping with him?" He shook his head. "That's sortta private, isn't it?" Either way, he did not take his eyes off the knife.

"Maybe," she replied with a shrug.  "But you are sleeping with my brother.  And he told me why he chose to."

Gilbert froze, the same flare of panic he felt whenever he thought about what Ivan had told him. "Yeah but he's your brother. I'm not, so I still get to have my privacy."

She twirled her knife, advancing on him, "What do you think of him, then?"

Gilbert leaned back but didn't stand. "Think of him? It's complicated."

Natalia paused a pace away from where he sat, "Try to explain it. Because if you're just using him..."

Eyes widening, Gilbert looked at her for a moment before he couldn't restrain the laugh that welled up, leaning back on his hands. "You—you're joking right? How can I use him when I'm his fucking prisoner?"

Her hand tightened on the hilt of her knife and her eyes narrowed dangerously, "You're able to move around more, for one."  She leaned forward, knife tip coming to rest against Gilbert's collarbone, "If you hurt him, I'll skin you alive and make sure you're aware of every moment of it."

Not laughing anymore, Gilbert met her eyes. "Of course I'm going to hurt him, we live in this city. But I don't intend to because—" he stopped and breathed before continuing. "Because I do care and I'm not just using him for sex or whatever it is in your head. But it's still complicated."

She pressed the knife a little harder, drawing a drop of blood, her eyes cold as the northern tundra, "If you care.  If you've talked to him at all you know what I mean by hurt him.  Don't you fucking dare, German. Ivan cares for you too much."

Gilbert didn't flinch back. "I won't be pushing him through any windows if that's what you mean," he said. "Or taking away his sunflowers," he added, voice dropping.

Her jaw tensed and it briefly looked like the words hurt her to say, "No. No I mean you're more to him than anyone else is. And if you do anything to throw that back in his face I'll kill you.  I love my brother.  He doesn't love me.  Not like that, but I love him and if you for even a moment take for granted who he is and what it means for him to care about you I will come after you and you won't have the time to regret doing so."

"Except when you're skinning me alive," Gilbert said.

Her lips finally twisted upward, "Except then."

"Then I won't forget," Gilbert said, still meeting her eyes.

She pressed the knife just a little harder, part of her wanting to see him back down, before finally drawing back, "Good. I do not make idle threats, but I do not want to face Ivan if I have to carry this one out."

"I get the feeling you don't often feel that way after threatening someone," Gilbert said, watching her face still, ignoring the trickle of blood at his collarbone.

"Never," she answered, the knife disappearing back into its hidden sheathe.  "But I have never had to threaten someone my brother says he loves."

"I—" Gilbert paused. "I'm glad of that."

Her expression twisted briefly, "Do not make me have to carry out that threat. Ivan would not forgive me."

"I have to say, you're still handling this better than I thought," he said, resting his elbows against his knees.

"What did you think I would do?" she tilted her head to the side like a curious bird.

"I was actually trying not to think about it," he said though the blood on his collarbone had been more along the lines of what he was expecting. He had already figured out how long it would have taken him to kick her in the stomach and make it to the window behind him when she had backed away.

Natalia reached up to fiddle with the ends of her long hair, "I have thought about what you said in the parlor. About, about wanting the person you love to be happy.  I don't make Ivan happy, I wish I did.  But for some reason you do.  Hurting you would hurt Ivan, and I don't want to hurt him.  He has hurt too much already."

Gilbert stared at her in surprise before smiling, a slow expression moving across his face. "I'm glad," he said, not sure what else he could.

Her hand stilled and her expression hardened again, "You can't leave him. Do you understand?"

Eyes snapping open, he kept his jaw locked for a long moment. "What?"

"You can't leave him."  She paused, her frustration visible as she tried to figure out how to say what she meant, "I know that you want to go home, but you cannot abandon him. If you ever do go home you have to come back.  There," she hesitated and shook her head, falling silent.

Feeling the words like a punch to his gut, Gilbert nodded. "You think he'd let me walk out and come back? I was sortta figuring he'd pretend I was never here and strangle me the first chance he got."

"I do not know. I have never seen him care for someone like this," she admitted. "I think that if you left and did not tell him that it would be the final straw for this war we have held so long in balance."

His mouth twisted. "I don't like the thought of that responsibility."

"Too bad.  Ivan is in love with you and you have responsibility for more than the risk of war," Natalia replied sharply.

He laughed, finally pushing himself to his feet. "And the fact I asked for none of that is meaningless now, huh?" he asked, dusting the back of his pants and his knees before straightening.

"The past is over and done.  There isn't anything to be done about that except what you make of what it has given you," she answered with a wry twist of her lips.

"How philosophical," Gilbert snorted.

She shrugged, "Less philosophy, more the only option there is."

He paused, certain sympathy would be thrown back in his face, probably with a knife. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he said. "Or to... do something you couldn't."

Natalia's eyes narrowed, weighing his words, "Well it happened no matter what you meant.  Don't hurt him, German."  She crossed to the door, pulling it open, "And stop hiding.  I'm not going to gut you for _this_."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that?" he asked under his breath. She shot him a sharp glance over her shoulder before leaving, the door swinging closed behind her.

o-o-o

Arthur stepped into the restaurant, holding the door long enough for Francis to catch it.  He offered the manager a smile, "Jonathan, it's been too long."

"Four months at least," the brown-haired man replied with a smile of his own.  "It is good to see you again, sir."

"Any new hires?" Arthur asked, a question the man was familiar with and understood some of the reasons behind.

"No one on kitchen staff, but Moira left a while ago and I have been hiring replacements for her for months.  They don't last very long usually."

That garnered an arched eyebrow, "And the current replacement?"

"Is going to be your waitress tonight, of course," Jonathan replied with a sharp smile, picking up two menus and escorting them to an out of the way table.

"You have everyone here trained very well, don't you?" Francis asked, leaning over his shoulder slightly as they walked, hands in his coat pockets still.

Arthur's lips curved upward, "I've been coming to this place for years.  They have good food, good service, and the staff likes me enough that I'll eat food from their kitchen."

"Always a poisoner," Francis murmured with a faint laugh before drawing back as they came to the table.

That earned a dry laugh from Arthur as he took the seat that allowed him a view of the front of the restaurant, leaving Francis to watch the back, "That's not something one gets over."

"Well, I suppose by the same token I'll be gathering information until the day I die as well," Francis said, taking a seat before shrugging out of his coat, draping it along the back of the seat.

"The life we ended up with," Arthur muttered, shaking his head slightly as he glanced over the menu.

Their waitress approached, her light brown hair pulled back away from her face in loose curls, "Good evening, gentlemen.  My name's Kate and I'll be your server tonight.  Can I get you anything to drink?"

Arthur glanced at Francis before looking up at the server, "I'll just have water to..." He paused for a long moment, thrown for a brief moment by her features but he shook it off, "to start with."

Kate mentally cursed once she got a good look at Arthur.  She had known this was a risk of working in English territory, but it didn't mean she was happy about it.

"Kate!" Francis exclaimed with evident surprise when he finally looked up. "I didn't know you were working here. I'm surprised, frankly."

Arthur's attention snapped back to his information officer, but he didn't say anything immediately.  Kate offered a smile at that, "Really?  It's a good job and I needed another one.  I didn't expect to see you in here, though.  At least," she broke off, glancing meaningfully between the two men.

The Head of the English House leaned back slightly, "How do the two of you know each other?"

Francis blinked at him for a moment, recognizing the tone of voice from the few times Arthur had allowed him to see his jealously. "Because she's your niece?" he said, so surprised at the question he didn't think about why Arthur hadn't already acknowledged that.

Both Arthur and Kate paled at that, Arthur's green eyes darting to the waitress, "Is that true?"

She swallowed, holding her notepad almost like a shield as she nodded, "I'm Cameron's youngest."

Looking between their expressions, Francis sunk down in his chair slightly.

Jaw tensing, Arthur drew a deep breath, "Your father doesn't—"

"Talk about me," Kate finished.  "I know.  Cameron doesn't like to admit I'm who I am."

"You mean to tell me that he doesn't like to admit that he has two children instead of one?" His voice held the slightest hint of danger in it.

"I mean that he doesn't like to admit that he has a daughter. He hoped for two sons," Kate answered with a thin smile.  She glanced at Francis, "Can I get you anything besides water?"

"Water's fine," Francis said and then instantly changed his mind. "No. Wine. Wine for sure. Something red and dry as the desert at this point."

Kate offered him a knowing smile at that before quickly retreating to get the requested drinks.  Arthur watched her go before turning back to Francis, "When did you meet her?"

"A few years ago," he said, leaning further back. "I didn't realize you never even knew she existed."

"I'm beginning to wonder why," Arthur said quietly, calmly.  "And not just from you.  She's blood, and I've certainly kept track of all the rest of my relatives even when I didn't want to.  No, what I want to know is why I haven't heard a word from her father or brother."

"Liam's a quiet soul," Francis shrugged. "Or at least he is around you and his father. I think he was too angry to bring it up. As for Cameron? She was right, he wanted the two sons he was born with."

Arthur's expression hardened at that, "I think my brother and I need to have a talk about what blood actually means.  How likely is she to accept any offer of help?"

Francis paused for a long moment. "I think it depends on how you offer it."

That earned a sigh and Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "Of course.  Doesn't it always?"

Kate returned at that moment with their drinks, showing no signs of the panic she'd very nearly had when she had disappeared from view, "Are you gentlemen ready to order, or shall I give you a few more minutes."

"I believe I'm ready," Arthur said, knowing before they walked in what he was planning to have.  "How long have you been working here, Kate?"

"A little over a week," she answered. Francis started frantically flipping through the menu he had not touched since walking in, listening with one ear.

"What were you doing before this?"

"I was working a couple of retail jobs and another waitressing position in the neutral zone," Kate admitted.

Arthur blinked, "Three jobs?  Do you still have all of those as well?"

She shook her head, "No, this replaced one of the retail.  They, I wasn't getting as many hours as I needed rather suddenly.  So just the three jobs again, this being one of them."

"That must add up to several hours," he mused, running a calculation.

"Just about sixty a week, on good weeks," Kate agreed, noting down the entree Arthur finally pointed to rather than break what conversation they were having.

"When do you find time for anything else?"

That earned a wry laugh, "Between shifts or some evenings.  But, well, it pays the bills."

Francis looked over the top of the menu at her and then back to Arthur, feeling the rage building up from across the table. He just hoped most of it could easily be redirected against Cameron or Liam instead of himself. "Have many of those?" he asked, frowning at the menu.

Kate glanced at him, before nodding slightly, "A few.  Electricity, rent, groceries.  A couple of medical ones." She glanced between them, "Nothing I can't cover."

"Medical?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Medication," the young woman amended.

Francis peeked at Arthur again, wondering if he understood before sighing and setting the menu down. "Mon Cheri, I wish I could ask you for recommendations but we both know your taste buds have long since been destroyed, if they ever existed in the first place."

Arthur offered Francis a long look at that, "You never asked my recommendations prior to determining that either."

Kate suppressed a smile at that, "If I may, the cook's coconut chicken curry is very good."

"That's because the first time we met you tried to cook," Francis said. "I've never recovered from the experience. The coconut chicken curry is shall be then."

Kate took their menus and slipped away to get the order placed with the kitchen.  Arthur watched her go, shaking his head, "Not a high chance of accepting help.  Not directly at least."

"No," Francis agreed. "Though considering you don't even know her, can you blame her?"

"No, I can't blame her.  I can however rip her father to pieces," Arthur muttered, tracing a finger over the rim of his water glass.

"It's an old fight between them," Francis said, knowing that wasn't going to matter.

Arthur growled something unkind under his breath at that, "He's still left one of his children on her own working three part-time jobs to cover her bills."

"Liam helps her, when she lets him," Francis said and paused. "Incidentally, where do you think he got that closet full of koalas?"

"I hadn't ever given it much thought," Arthur admitted. "Liam and I don't have much contact for being in the same House and for all I wish I'd done otherwise in that relationship."

"Well," Francis paused. "I guess that means you have another chance now, doesn't it?"

"Hopefully," Arthur agreed as Kate returned briefly to set down their meals and retreat again. "I can't believe I didn't even know, though."

"I thought you had," Francis admitted. "Or I would have told you when I found out."

Arthur sighed, "That much I know.  I hardly hold you responsible for my ignorance in this matter, Francis."

"Really?" Francis asked in some surprise, like he had expected that.

"I can't actually imagine you withholding this information from me," Arthur admitted.  "Not when you know how I am about family."

"I'm glad you at least know something," Francis said with a strained smile. "But I still should have told you, if only to make sure."

"Well, in this case what's done is done.  I can only attempt to move forward with this. And possibly speak to certain of my kin about it," Arthur said, mouth twisting at the thought of having to talk to Cameron after this.

"Will your brother survive?" Francis asked, resting his chin on one palm and arching his brow as he leaned forward.

Arthur grimaced before nodding, "I still need a guard so I suppose he'll have to."

"I'm surprised," Francis said. "Liam could always take his position, except you're saving him for Alfred, aren't you?"

"I'm also not certain he's ready for the position quite yet," Arthur admitted.  "Just as Matthew isn't ready to step into his place either. Though, at the same time, Liam could probably stand a little more time in the actual role I have intended for him."

Francis frowned slightly, uncertain still about the triad Arthur was trying to build between the three young men. "Are you so certain that's wise?"

Arthur looked at him over the rim of his water glass, "Which part?"

"Any of it with those three," Francis shrugged. "They're a danger to themselves still, let alone each other."

"It's the best I have.  My hope is that they won't all three be entering their positions at the same time."  He set his glass down, shaking his head, "I know I can't control that, but my hope is that one or more of us will be here to keep hold of a position until they're old enough to be, well, less of a danger to themselves and each other."

Francis still frowned. "Sometimes I used to think the only reason I was still alive was because you hated Alfred more. I'm still surprised at the trust you're willing to place in him."

"I've never hated him," Arthur corrected.  "We don't see eye-to-eye on some things.  He's young, he's headstrong, and if he doesn't learn to rein himself in he'll be more trouble than he's worth, but he's also able to command loyalty and he's protective.  He's not ready for the position of Head, but he has the ability to be ready in the future.  Do I trust him?  Yes and no."

"You still handed him power on a plate," Francis pointed out and leaned back. "Frankly, I want to see what he does with it, but that does not mean it doesn't frighten me."

Arthur hummed in agreement, "We shall see if it was a worthwhile risk or not, I suppose.  Until he proves himself one way or another I have to continue to hope that I made the right decision."

"Or at the very least that you are there to knock sense into him," Francis said, leaning further back with a laugh and trying to focus on the food in front of him.

Arthur managed a smile at that, as he turned his attention to his own meal, "Or that.  This dinner has not gone exactly how I was planning."

"Oh? If you were planning on something more romantic, I hate to tell you this isn't the place for it," Francis shot across the table with a small smirk.

Arthur laughed, "No, you know I'm hardly one to manage romance.  I had been rather hoping not to have the entire conversation cycle around family at least."

"Like what?" Francis asked. "Is there anything else that can be discussed in public?" The last was added with a leer.

Arthur's lips curled upward into a smirk, "Perhaps not. Though it does bring to mind things to be discussed privately."

"Indeed?" Francis asked in a teasing drawl.

"Hardly anything one could talk about in _company_ ," Arthur replied, almost airily.

"Well then," Francis said, knocking his foot against Arthur's under the table. "I look forward to being in private." He ate his food like a dance, carefully turning his spoon and fork around as needed, leaving his foot against Arthur's.

The meal went quickly, more than minor flirtation passing between them.  Arthur picked up the check, leaving a large tip and a note for Kate that if she ever needed help of any sort to call the House, the number scribbled down quickly. 

Kate picked up the folder after they'd left, while she was cleaning up the table, and paled.  She quickly finished what she was doing and seeing that her section was momentarily empty gained permission to clock out for her break.  She retreated to the break room and dialed Feliks' number, feeling more panicked than usual.

"Like, what?" Feliks picked up the phone, still sprawled out on his stomach on the bed.

"Feliks, it's Kate.  Are you," she paused, trying to calm down. "Are you able to meet me somewhere when I get off tonight?"

"Um," he rubbed a hand over his face and blinked at the clock. Toris had left several hours ago. "Sure."

"Oh thank you," she murmured.  "I'm off in a little over an hour.  Where's best for you?"

"Anywhere you like," he said, mostly awake. "Just not like, too far away."

"That bar midway between your apartment and the nearest metro stop?  The one with the red decor that tries to look fancy but sells fucking cheap liquor," Kate clarified.

Feliks chuckled into the pillow. "Yeah, I know the place with pretentions for class. I sometimes want to ask them if they've ever actually seen class face to face before."

"Just don't ask them before I get sloshed tonight, alright?" Kate replied, managing a laugh.

"I'll try," he laughed. "I can't say much for the Russians but at least they understand class."

"Alright, I'll see you in an hour and a half then." She replied, "I'd better get back on shift."

"Yeah, I might have enough time to do my hair between now and then," he said, considering actually going back to sleep but pushing himself up instead so he would be sure not to be late.

She laughed, "Give it a try anyhow.  See you, Feliks."  Hanging up she returned to the dining room to finish her shift.

He muttered something about feeling like his hair had been insulted as he wandered into the bathroom, trying to pass the time without worrying too much. There had been many times Kate had called him up in half a panic and he expected this night to be no different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have added a list of the character names to the author's note on chapter 1.
> 
> This is also the chapter where Meadow caused VS to have a breakdown by randomly tossing Allende into a list of character names as VS has been reading about cold war Latin America for months now and has a lot of feelings about the Chile coup. Meadow has less of those.


	26. Why Shouldn't I Kill Him and Have You Do It?

Eirik entered the main living room and paused when he saw Sigurd.  Hesitating for a moment in the doorway he crossed the room and sat down next to the other on the couch, opening the book he was carrying.  Curling up against the other he tried to focus on the book and not of the fact that he really shouldn't be reading when his eyes were feeling strained.

Sigurd had noticed his entrance but had not quite expected him to sit so close, leaning against him. Hesitantly, he brought an arm up to wrap around Eirik's shoulder. "Do you have your contacts in?"

Eirik tensed ever so slightly at that question, but didn't draw back, "No."

"Then you shouldn't be reading," Sigurd said, plucking the book out of Eirik's hands with the one not around his shoulder.

Eirik yelped slightly at that, making a grab for the book, "For pity's sake, I'm nearsighted not blind.  Give me back my book."

"You're the one who's straining your eyes," Sigurd said, setting aside what he had been working on to flip through the book.

"Which is my choice if I want to do so," the other protested, reaching for the book again.

Sigurd held the book away and distracted him as he leaned forward with a quick kiss before leaning up to kiss his nose before drawing back. "No, it's not."

Eirik stilled, blinking at Sigurd for a long moment before getting his brain back on track of the argument, "My eyes, my choice."  He shifted and placed a hand on Sigurd's thigh to brace himself as he reached for the book again.

"I could read it to you," Sigurd offered, still holding it away.

The younger man paused, staring at Sigurd for a moment, "It's been a long time since you've offered to do that."

Sigurd shrugged, affecting that he was unconcerned. "You're the idiot who's not wearing your contacts."

"I don't need them for reading," Eirik insisted, but finally backed off, curling up next to Sigurd again.

Sigurd hummed, not willing to concede the point before flipping the book open again and starting to read, voice steady, except at exclamations in the text.

Closing his eyes and letting Sigurd's voice wash over him, Eirik didn't notice when Tino slipped into the room several minutes later.  He had followed the sound of Sigurd's voice and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at the sight that the two made on the couch.

Sigurd glanced up as he entered and went studiously back to reading. Tino settled into a chair nearby, pulling out the project he was working on.  The movement caused Eirik to open his eyes and he tensed very slightly, but stayed curled against Sigurd's side. Gaze darting to the doorway at movement, Eirik sank a little closer against Sigurd when he saw Berwald leaning against the frame.

Ignoring them all, Sigurd kept reading, though a faint color had risen in his cheekbones. Berwald entered the room finally, sitting down and drawing a side table over as quietly as he could to work on cleaning one of the smaller handguns he carried while listening to Sigurd.  Tino glanced up from his own work, keeping silent for once rather than comment that besides the projects they were working on it didn't feel much different than several years before.

Finishing the chapter, Sigurd looked up and as no one seemed inclined to move or comment he started on the next one, still ignoring the other two and keeping one arm around Eirik who reached up to twine his fingers with Sigurd's where Sigurd's arm was around him.  Eirik let his eyes drift closed again to block out the fact that Tino and Berwald were there, relegating any quiet noises from their work to the background as he listened to the cadence of his brother's voice.

Wondering where everyone had disappeared to, Matthias paused in the doorway to find them sitting around Sigurd as he read. For a moment he considered before strolling into the room and sitting down in an ungainly sprawl next to where Berwald was working. His hands folded behind his head, he made a concerted effort to stay still.

Berwald wiped his hands off on a rag in order to reach over and run a hand absently through Matthias' hair by way of greeting before returning to his work. Matthias startled and looked over at him before trying to settle back down, listening to Sigurd read. There had been times in the past where he had sat on the floor and cleaned guns while Sigurd read reports to him but that had been when they were barely teenagers.

Tino glanced between Matthias and Berwald and Sigurd and Eirik, shaking his head very slightly and smiling faintly.  He watched tension seep out of the line of Eirik's shoulders as he relaxed against Sigurd, the relative quiet and stillness of the room odd, but not necessarily unwelcome.

Finally unable to sit anymore, Matthias leaned over to Berwald. "So how come we never cuddle in public?"

Berwald startled slightly at that, "What?"

Matthias shrugged, leaning back and trying to sit still again. "It'd be cute, you reading to everyone."

"Don' read aloud.  N'ver have," Berwald said.  He would read on his own time, but reading out loud was comparable to speaking for a long time to him and he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Matthias gave him an easy grin. "Don't worry, I still like you anyway."

That earned a ghost of a smile from Berwald as he glanced toward where Eirik was watching them, "Good."

"You could still always cuddle me though," Matthias smirked over and Sigurd looked up from the book.

Berwald blinked down at Matthias, "Didn' realize y' wanted that."

"I wouldn't turn it down," Matthias said, breezily though his eyes were serious.

He nodded slightly, "C'n do that."

Matthias blinked, having not expected that before he nodded and tried to focus on what Sigurd was reading again. Tino glanced toward them, offering Berwald a smile and a shake of his head, knowing all it took was actually reminding Berwald of how tactile other people could be.

Finally snapping the book shut, Sigurd looked over at Eirik. "If you want me to continue, you're going to have to get my something to drink."

Eirik looked up at him, pausing for a moment before getting to his feet.  "Okay," he slipped out of the room without protest to get water for Sigurd.

Sigurd leveled the others with a long look. "Do you quite mind?"

Berwald raised an eyebrow, but finished assembling the gun and cleaned his workspace up.  Tino shrugged, "It's been a while since we heard you read. You've got the best voice for it."

"It wasn't entirely meant for you," Sigurd said and Matthias pushed himself to his feet.

He ran a hand along Berwald's back and leaned down. "Come on. We need to go."

Berwald nodded and rose, following Matthias out.  Tino watched them go before turning back to Sigurd, "Are you doing alright?"

"How do you mean?" Sigurd asked, flipping through the next several chapters to see how things ended.

"I mean exactly what I asked.  You and Eirik seem to have talked, but are you doing alright?"

"You're very nosy," Sigurd said and looked at the door. "I'm not sure I'm what he actually wants."

"You all have your own ways of keeping the House intact and together, I have mine," Tino answered before following Sigurd's gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not certain about living up to the expectations of someone who admitted I was his teenage dream," Sigurd said. "Do you think some people find that flattering? I'm somewhere between appreciation and sheer terror."

That earned a long blink, "You spent his teenage years fighting with Matthias and being stand-offish to everyone else."

He paused a beat. "I suppose I did. I still... I don't know what I'd do."

"If you don't live up to them, you mean?"

Sigurd nodded. "I'm not really anyone's ideal of something that lives up to anything."

"I, personally, think you're selling yourself short," Tino admitted.  "But you two are figuring this out, and you will figure it out.  Though you really ought to talk to _him_."

"About this?" Sigurd asked and shook his head.

"Maybe?" Tino shrugged, "It's something that's obviously worrying you."

"How uncool would that be?" Sigurd shook his head. "Oh by the way I'm not sure I can live up to your expectations and I'm terrified about everything because I don't lose control and by its very nature relationships like this are about losing that control." He snapped his mouth shut, the second part not meant to have come out.

Tino's brows rose at that, "Well, I guess it's a good thing you have _someone_ you can talk to in that case, because you are locking up way too much if you don't want to lose control at this point."

Sigurd's eyes narrowed slightly. "I never want to lose control," he said, not sure Tino had understood.

"You're," Tino paused, deciding that what he started to say was the wrong thing, "You've come a long way since you started putting so much strength in control."

Frowning a moment, Sigurd leaned back, book held loosely in his lap. "A long way?"

"You have a lot of things going for you, Sigurd.  But there's only so much I can say in regards to that," Tino replied, shaking his head slightly.  "I still think you ought to talk to Eirik about _something_ , but you're probably right that it's not something easy to talk about."

"If you say so," Sigurd said, shaking his head slightly.

Tino finally pushed himself to his feet, "I wish I knew what to tell you."

"Thanks for trying," Sigurd shrugged, still holding the book in his lap.

Tino nodded and left the room, turning and almost colliding with Eirik.  The younger man put a finger to his lips and stepped around Tino, entering and setting the glass of water he was carrying down next to Sigurd.

"Thanks," Sigurd said and then glanced from the glass to Eirik.

Eirik nodded, sitting down next to him again, "You're welcome."

"Would you like to keep reading?" Sigurd asked, leaning back.

"If you want to," Eirik answered.  He paused for a long moment, "Are you really that scared of losing control?"

Sigurd tensed. "I suppose that was a rather long time to get a drink of water."

"Yeah, just a bit long," Eirik agreed. "So are we talking about this or ignoring it?"

"Which would you prefer?" Sigurd asked, not looking over at him.

"I don't know.  How, how are we going to do this, though?" He glanced at Sigurd before looking away again.

"Do what?" Sigurd asked, still carefully not looking at him.

"Anything more than we already have.  You're scared of what it means, aren't you?  So, so am I really."

"I suppose that's something," Sigurd said, squeezing his hand.

Eirik curled a bit closer to him, "So, we can try to work through this together?"

"I'm not good at making promises like that," Sigurd said. "But, we can try."

"I'm not asking for a promise, I'm asking for the chance to try," Eirik replied.  "But for now, can you just read another chapter?"

A tiny smile turned up the corners of Sigurd's mouth. "Alright," he agreed, sliding an arm over Eirik's shoulder and urging him down. Curling himself closer against Sigurd's side, Eirik let his eyes close as he listened to the other start to read again.

o-o-o

Swirling his dink around, Feliks tilted his head over at Kate. "Was it really so bad?"

"My uncle showed up at the restaurant where I work on a date and I had never met him before.  And he left an insane tip when he left," she tossed back her drink. "Yes, it was so bad."

"Could take the tip and run," Feliks shrugged.

"Except I can't do that to Liam.  Oh, and the best part?  He left me contact information if I ever need anything.  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"You could actually use it," he said, tone careful and expression neutral.

She looked down at the bar top, frowning at it, "Maybe.  I've been doing fine for myself without it so far."

Feliks tried to be a good friend, calm and always ready to offer an ear and pithy statement so he tried to keep his anger down. "You're being given an offer of protection and family," he said. "Why is that such a bad thing?"

"Because I'm waiting for the fucking thing to get withdrawn, that's why," Kate snapped in response, turning to actually face him. "I'd rather not have settled in before it happens."

"Not everyone's gonna withdraw from you, like, I never have," Feliks pointed out. "Okay, I'm a bad example. But truly. Not everyone's gonna kick you on the curb."

"I don't know these people, Feliks.  And, and Liam says they're risking war again and how am I supposed to make it _with_ their protection?"

"Look, you're just going to have to excuse my moment of bitterness here because I'm an orphan and the only family I have is currently stuck working for the damn Russians no matter how much he hates it there or how horrible they are to him because he can't get out and you have a family and it's fucked as all hell because all of them are but they're still a _family_."

She raked a hand through her hair, "You're right.  And I'm not saying I don't want them, but I haven't been this scared of people since I originally told Liam and Mum."

"It could be worse," Feliks said and frowned when he felt someone hovering behind his shoulder. "Look what—" he started to snap and turn and stopped dead at the sight of Ivan standing behind him, sheet music under one elbow and a bottle of wine just acquired in his other hand. Kate looked in that direction and fell complete still, her blue eyes widening at the sight of Ivan.

"Your problem always has been that you've had a loud mouth," Ivan said, head cocked to one side with a queer grin.

"I—what? No, like I've barely said a thing," Feliks protested.

Kate shifted very slightly, gaze fixed on Ivan, "Feliks?"

"What?" he asked without taking his eyes off Ivan.

She hesitated, but shook her head, having finally fully placed the Head of the Russian House, "N-nothing."

"So she's from the English house," Ivan said, tone still high.

She leaned back at that, shaking her head, "I've never set f-foot in that House.  Or any other."

Ivan laughed, clearly not believing her. "If you say so," he said and leveled Feliks with a long look, making him lean back.

Kate shifted at that, fingers twitching as she glanced at Feliks briefly.

"Feliks," Ivan said. "You should be more careful."

"I'm like, um, always careful," Feliks offered, leaning back as Ivan shifted so that he was holding the sheet music and the wine in one hand. The other reached out and jerked the back of Feliks' shirt, dragging him from the seat. Kate startled forward automatically at that, but froze before she touched either of the men.

Feliks shook his head quickly, the motion cut off. "I think we need to talk," Ivan said, and kept pulling Feliks stumbling after him.

The instant they were out the door Kate pulled out her phone, her hand shaking as she called her brother, unwilling to stay alone.

"What?" Liam asked, answering his phone instantly in alarm to see her number, cutting Alfred and Matthew off.

"Can, can you come get me?  I'm at the Moon's Cradle in the Neutral Zone.  Please, Liam?" She managed, leaning against the bar.

He frowned, alright rising. "Yeah, okay," he said. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Do you have a metro ticket at least?"

"Yeah, I've got one," she answered quietly, her voice not quite steady.

"I'll meet you there, and get you home," Liam said.

"What, do you have a girlfriend?" Alfred called as Liam was already going for the door, and Liam flipped him off.

Matthew watched their cousin leave, blinking after him, "That...what was that?"

"No idea," Alfred said. "Want to follow him?"

Matthew's lips curved upward as he pushed himself to his feet, "Come on, we'll claim it was to make sure he didn't do anything dangerous."

"Yeah, was that the excuse you used on following me?" Alfred asked..

"No one asked why I followed you," Matthew replied with a shrug.

"To yourself, I meant," Alfred shrugged, catching his coat off the hanger by the door, shrugging into the jacket.

Matthew pulled his coat on and stepped out of the door, "No, my excuse was that I wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything reckless. Which you were."

Alfred shrugged as they walked, the thought of Kiku burning under his skin. He'd been irritated when Arthur decided they needed more personal time and training together, which left him less time to plan his next meeting with Kiku. "It's not reckless."

"You're dating the heir of that House, Al.  It is reckless."

"We've thought it through," Alfred protested, keeping Liam in his sight.

"Alright, so maybe not reckless, but dangerous," Matthew finally allowed.  "I'm glad you've thought it through at least."

"I'm not a total idiot," Alfred huffed, taking the next turn after Liam.

Matthew nodded slightly, "I never have figured out why you started seeing him."  He paused briefly when Liam headed to the metro station, "You have got to be kidding."

"Come on," Alfred urged him forward. "What do you mean why though?" He had expected a question about when not why.

"I mean why.  It's not something I would have expected of you," Matthew answered, following their cousin down into the metro station. Alfred muttered something, his longer legs moving faster than Matthew's natural pace. Matthew picked up his pace, having learned when he was younger how to keep up with his brother, "I'm not saying you have to answer, but I was surprised."

"Why?" Alfred asked, and amended it. "Why were you surprised?"

"Because, well because I never thought you'd end up in a relationship honestly."

"I'm not totally incapable of emotions," Alfred muttered, surly.

Matthew paused, "Well, no, but you never choose to show them either.  I guess I'm just wondering why this case is different."

Starting to huff again, Alfred paused, still following Liam and flashing the metro pass when he need to. "Because he didn't either and at first I was offended that someone else was being so quiet so I wanted to make him expose himself, to stop hiding. That was a really fucking stupid plan, come to think of it but it changed, somewhere between meets so I genuinely wanted to see him, and talk to him and fuck, it just went from there and I don't know which point I could have stopped it."

That earned a glance from Matthew before he turned his attention back to keeping their cousin in sight, "How far ahead have you two thought about this?"

"We talked about what it would be like to be Heads of our Houses," Alfred said, voice almost lost underneath the bustle of everyone else.

Matthew paled at that, catching his brother by the arm and nearly pulling them both to a stop before he remembered they were following Liam, "You _what_?"

"What? I'm not going to fucking shoot Arthur or anything, it's just something that someday is going to _happen_ ," Alfred protested, tilting his head back to see Liam and picking up the pace again.

Matthew took a couple of hurried steps before finding the rhythm of Alfred's pace again and keeping step with him, "That...you two are hanging a lot of hopes on something that could be a long way out."

"Yeah, I know that," Alfred said, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. "It's why we got to think about it, isn't it?"

"Well, I guess I hope it works out for you then."  He yanked Alfred into a metro car one back from the one Liam stepped into and positioned them near the window where they could see when Liam got off.

"Well, now I know we're doomed," Alfred muttered, going surly again. "Because I'm not sure you could have been less enthusiastic if you tried."

"Excuse me for not being enthusiastic about a plan that looks like it will only work when our guardian is dead," Matthew replied sharply.

"I'm not asking for that either," Alfred snapped. "We do what we have to until then and I get that but fuck, Matthew, no one lives here that long—"

His brother's jaw tensed and he replied in an echo of Alfred's tone, "You think I don't know that?  I just don't like knowing your happiness hinges on his lifespan."

"We can be happy between now and then," Alfred muttered. "There's still Yao too."

"Well, good luck, Al.  I don't know what more to say or do for you than what I already have."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Alfred said, looking out the window and watching the stops pass by the window, waiting for Liam to get off. Matthew sighed, finally seeing their cousin exit the metro and one of the central neutral zone stops and pulled Alfred with him off of the train.

They reached the street when Liam suddenly turned, glaring them both down with his hands on his hips. "Excuse you," he said. "What exactly are you doing here?"

Matthew offered him a smile that wasn't quite innocent, "We wanted some air. And besides, with the city the way it is right now, venturing out alone seems stupid."

"Yeah, we were just watching your back like," Alfred said with a disarming grin.

Liam's eyes narrowed at both of them. "Well, feel free to take your innocent selves back to the house. I'm perfectly fine and this isn't your business."

"What, got a girl?" Alfred asked and Liam's hand twitched.

"Mate, just go home," Liam said, turning around. "I have no interest in explaining shit to you right now."

"You'll explain when you get back then," Matthew said, though it probably should have been a question.

"Like fuck I will," Liam said, still walking quickly away.

Matthew glanced at Alfred before continuing to follow Liam, "Then I guess you’re stuck with us."

Liam whirled around again, jabbing a finger into Matthew's chest. "Go _home_. This has nothing to do with you and it's not your business."

"That doesn't work on him," Alfred said and Liam almost snarled.

"Mate, I don't care. Go away."

Matthew arched an eyebrow, "Not until I have your word that you're going to explain this."

"You're so interested in the intelligence business then?" Liam asked. "Ask Francis and fuck off."

Matthew paused at that, catching his cousin by the arm and yanking him around, "Liam, how stupid is what you're currently doing?"

"Not really," he said. "I'm not Alfred over here and I'm not seeing anyone romantically," he added when Alfred opened his mouth.

"And Francis knows?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck if I know," Liam said and turned to walk off again.

Matthew's eyes narrowed, but he finally shook his head, "Come on, Alfred.  We can interrogate him later if we really need to."

"You'd have to kill me to do it," Liam sang over his shoulder and finally approached the bar.

Matthew leaned against the wall of the building next to the bar, rather than actually head back to the metro station, "Might be worth it."

"Are you serious?" Alfred asked. "He's going to kill you for snooping at this point."

"Then he'd have to explain why to Arthur," Matthew reminded.

"Sure, but this is still stupid," Alfred said. "What is it with you and gotta know stuff?"

"It's the thing I'm good at.  It's what keeps me feeling useful," Matthew answered with a shrug.

"But it's Liam," Alfred said. "We should just leave him be."

Matthew sighed, "Probably.  Now I'm curious what he's hiding so hard though."

"Come on," Alfred said, pulling at his shoulder. "Leave him alone."

"Alright, fine," Matthew agreed, starting back toward the metro stop.

Alfred let out a breath and followed him. "It's not that bad to be in suspension for a while."

"Says you," Matthew replied.  "He lit out of the House faster than I think I've ever seen him move."

Kate was off her stool by the bar and headed toward the door as soon as she spotted her brother.  She wasn't entirely steady, though that was more from what had happened than what she'd had to drink, "Liam!"

"Kate," he greeted, still looking over his shoulder at the door. "What's wrong? What's got you so shaken?" He rested a hand on her shoulder, holding her steady and upright.

"I, my, we were just out for drinks.  And, and I don't have actual ties to your House but, but that's not going to matter and Feliks..." She glanced quickly toward the door, seeing his look.

"Kate, slow down and try again," he managed.

"Arthur came into the restaurant tonight.  I, I called Feliks.  We were just getting _drinks_ , Liam.  He was calming me down because, because our fucking uncle came into the restaurant! And, and then, then I-Ivan B-Braginski was here and, and he dragged Feliks out of here. He thought I was with your House!" Her voice was rising very slightly in panic, the words coming quickly.

"Feliks was from the Russian House, wasn't he?" Liam asked, blinking as he absorbed all that.

"Yes, but he hasn't been in that House in a long time.  But, but he's still watched, and, and Liam I don't know what's going to happen."

"Well, nothing's happened yet," Liam tried to sooth her. "I mean, no, that's totally wrong isn't it? Something has happened but... I can talk to Francis tonight, see if he can figure out about Feliks. We can maybe get a message to the Russians if that wouldn't make them more paranoid."

"No," she shook her head quickly.  "The, the House _can't_ get involved.  It would, it would make Braginski think he was right.  I just, I didn't, I didn't want to be by my, by myself after that."

"Alright," Liam said, smoothing her hair down. "Alright, well, I'm here. I can get you back to your apartment."

She leaned into the touch, drawing a steadying breath, "Okay.  Thank, thank you."

Shrugging out of his coat, he draped it over her shoulders and rested a hand around her waist. "Come on, Kate. Let's get you home then."

She leaned against him as they left, "Arthur left contact information when he and Francis left the restaurant."

He tried very hard not to sigh. "And that's a bad thing?"

"I don't think so.  It just, it confuses me."

"Arthur cares about family," Liam said. "Even when he hates them he'll die to protect them. I don't know if he's going to be more angry at me and Cameron or furious that you never presented yourself—whether he'd ever say that or not."

She hesitated, "You think I should take him up on the offer."

"I think you could use the support," Liam said, looking down at her.

Kate wet her lips before finally offering a half shrug, "You, you may be right."

"Just because you're associated with a House doesn't mean you have to start running business or meets," Liam said. "And—your friend sortta shows that you can never really get away from a House, doesn't it?"

She flinched at that, "Yeah, he does.  I...you've got a point.  I just, I need to go home tonight."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I can stay as long as you need me to."

"Thank you," Kate murmured, turning her steps toward her apartment.  "You're sure you're not needed at the House?"

"Not tonight," he said, keeping an eye out for Matthew and Alfred—luckily Alfred was tall and broad shouldered—and stubbornly keeping a hand around her.

"Who are you watching for?" She asked quietly after a moment.

"The pests who live in the house," Liam said.

"They're here?" she startled slightly at that possibility.

"No," Liam said, hoping it was true as no matter where he looked he could not find them. "They'd just think we were sleeping together anyway."

Kate gaped at him before actually laughing, "They _what_?"

Liam found himself cracking a smile. "They assume that about anyone sneaking or storming out of the house I think. Between Francis and Alfred it might not be such a bad assumption."

She shook her head, "And here I thought we looked related enough that they wouldn't think that."

"That would require them to have more brainpower than I think they do, between the two of them," he shrugged, unable to help the small smile.

Kate grinned at that, "I thought you liked them more than that."

"I do," he replied. "Like them, I mean. I just also think they're really quite moronic sometimes."

"I'm sure they think the same of each other and of you, too," Kate said as they reached her apartment and she unlocked the door.

Liam shrugged. "I don't do stupid shit, when compared to them."

She offered him a smile and shook her head slightly, stepping inside.  The apartment was a small, sparsely furnished studio that had a great view out the window of the wall of the building next door, "If you say so."

"The stories I could tell you," Liam said, shaking his head. "You would weep at their foolishness."

"Well, I've got all night.  Can I get you anything?"

"Not yet," he said, surveying the chairs before choosing a seat. "But thank you." Tilting his head back, he watched her. "Are you at least doing alright?"

She paused, leaning against the counter in her kitchenette, "I guess so.  I'm faring pretty well, and my jobs are going alright.  I'm suddenly very worried about Feliks, but otherwise I'm doing okay."

Liam paused a beat at the mention of Feliks again and then nodded. "I'm not sure I've heard about Feliks before. Do you like him?" he asked, a teasing edge to the last question.

Kate offered him an exasperated shake of her head, "Not like that.  He's got a boyfriend.  But he's been a good friend to me for a while now."

"Well I'm glad of that at least," Liam said, wanting to press more. "Do you ever think there might be something in the water here that makes us all crazy?"

"I don't think it's the water.  I think it's the air," she answered simply.  "Then again I guess it depends on what you mean by crazy."

"Likely to kill each other, and fall in love with each other," Liam shrugged. "We just have a lot of stupid people falling in love with other morons. Not that I'm saying Feliks is just—"

"His boyfriend's still in the Russian House, so I'd say they fit in there too," Kate answered.  "It's something in the air."

"I'm just thrilled I haven't caught it yet," he said.

"So am I.  Warn me if you think you're coming down with this insanity, kay?"

"You'll be the first—or possibly the second if I kiss anyone I shouldn't—to know," Liam promised, tone dead serious.

"Good, and I promise to let you know if anything looks to be shaping up on my end, too," she vowed, pouring herself a glass of water.

"If we try really hard, maybe we'll stop each other from it, huh?" he offered, leaning his arms along the back of the chair and dropping his head down. "I live in a house of fuckin' lunatics."

"All of them are lunatics?" Kate poured a second glass of water and moved over to set it down next to her brother before taking the other chair.

"Yeah," he said. "Are you kidding? Arthur's the quiet kind of crazy, Francis sleeps with him, Matthew sulks and Alfred is just bonkers." He left out several members, such as their father.

Kate laughed at that, "Alright, you're right, they're all nuts.  But what does that say about you?"

"I live in a house of nutters?" he offered hopefully.

"And probably are one yourself," she replied, shaking her head at him

"Hush," he scolded. "I'm a model of sanity and no one can tell me otherwise."

"Comparatively speaking you're probably right, on your own?" She grinned, "You've never been sane."

Shaking his head, Liam stuck his tongue out at her. "Like you're one to speak."

"Oh I know I'm crazy," she replied, leaning back in her chair.  "Never argued that point."

"Good," he said and leaned forward, resting a hand on her knee. "But I still want you to be alright."

She offered him a faint smile, "I will be, Liam.  I'm doing fine."

"Good," he said and leaned back. "Say, have any movies or something like that? Or we could braid each other's hair and gossip. I'm actually totally open to either."

"How about both?" She answered with a grin, pushing herself to her feet and pulling out a basket of movies rather than think about what had happened that evening.

o-o-o

Ivan threw Feliks through the door, dropping the music and wine on a table nearby. "So it's the English then," Ivan said, head tilted to the side and smile frozen.

"What?" Feliks said, catching his hands on the floor before his nose hit the concrete. He whirled his head around. "I'm not... I've nothing to do with the English!"

Toris had been on his way down the stairs into the entry hall and he froze when he saw Feliks. He felt his breath catch and he managed to take another step, the stair tread creaking under his weight.

"Nothing?" Ivan said, taking another step forward and Raivis stopped from where he was walking toward the stairs, scampering off to tell everyone else that Ivan was in a mood and he had Feliks.

"Nothing!" Feliks insisted. "Kate isn't—"

"He is," Ivan said and Feliks snarled at him.

"She," he corrected and Ivan tilted his head the other way. Feliks didn't want to think about the fact that Ivan knew enough about Kate to know about the sex change.

"Kate," Ivan repeated. "And the intelligence boy. And the bodyguard. They've all come to your door, Feliks."

Toris paled, watching Raivis leave before reaching the main floor, "I-Ivan, s-sir please, he wouldn't."

Ivan turned enough to glare at him. "No," he said. "I have let this go long enough."

"Are you insane?" Feliks snapped, pushing himself up. "I've nothing—"

"Then why do they keep coming to you?" Ivan demanded. "If you aren't betraying us?"

"What the fuck would I have to betray?" Feliks asked, on his feet as Gilbert appeared at the top of the stairs, Winter behind him.

Toris took a half step back before steeling himself, "Sir, he wouldn't betray this House."

Ivan stepped forward and grabbed Feliks' chin, shoving him back against the wall. "I should kill you for this."

"I haven't done anything!"

Before he could think about it, Toris had crossed the remaining distance, catching Ivan's arm, "Sir, please, no!"

"You," Ivan said, turning on him. "Are also on very dangerous ground."

Toris back up a pace, but stopped and brought his chin up as he met Ivan's eyes, something he rarely did, "He wouldn't betray the House.  He hasn't betrayed the House."

"You sound quite sure," Ivan said, watching Toris. "Unless you've betrayed us too."

That made Feliks try to lash out, Ivan barely even noticing his hands hitting his chest. "Hey, what, no! Leave Toris out of this you asshole."

"You know my loyalty's to this House," Toris replied, trying to keep his voice steady as he fought back the panic he could feel rising.

"That's just a platitude," Ivan said, voice still dangerously pitched. "Why shouldn't I kill him and have you do it?"

The brunet fell deathly still at that, "Because he hasn't done anything."

Feliks had stilled as well, quivering with the force of not moving while braced for springing into action. "Why are you all lying to me?" Ivan demanded, voice dropping low and no smile left on his face. "When I can so clearly see? Why shouldn't I kill you both when—"

"Ivan," Gilbert said suddenly from the top of the stairs and Ivan's head snapped upward. Toris stayed very still, not wishing to draw attention back to himself unless necessary, his gaze finally moving from Ivan to Feliks and then up to Gilbert. "Ivan," Gilbert repeated and Ivan tilted his chin back and then slowly stepped back, Feliks sagging down but managing to stay on his feet.

"Winter," he snapped, the bodyguard moving quickly down the stairs. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere," he said, gesturing to Feliks and disappeared through one of the doors leading from the foyer. As Winter looked Feliks over and dragged him away, Gilbert almost collapsed against the railing, hands tight around the banister.

Toris made an aborted movement to follow Feliks, but caught himself in time, looking up the stairs toward Gilbert.  He hesitated, casting a quick glance toward where Ivan had left and climbed the stairs, "G-Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" he said, looking over.

"Th-thank you.  I don't think it's done m-more than delay it, but thank you," with those words he slipped back down the stairs and vanished into one of the halls, hoping to coax an answer from Eduard or Raivis as to where Winter had locked Feliks up.

Watching where he left for a moment, Gilbert took the stairs down, following him. "Hey, Toris. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Toris pulled himself up short, "My job. I was headed to the kitchen."

"Of course you were," Gilbert said and packed Toris into a side room. "You're going to do something very stupid."

Toris yanked away from him once the door was closed, his eyes narrowing, "Do you have an alternative?"

"No, but I am saying that as the master of moronic stunts you might want to take a breath and think it through," Gilbert snapped.

Raking a hand through his brown hair, Toris made a noise in the back of his throat, "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Gilbert shook his head at him. "Well, I'd say that asking someone where he was put would be really fucking stupid, seeing as you're hardly a disinterested party. I'll check with someone, okay?"

Toris blinked at him for a long moment, "You'd do that?"

"Didn't I just go over the fact I'm experienced in doing stupid as fuck shit while you're not?" Gilbert asked, pausing from where he was already turning for the door. "What do you think I meant with that?"

"I'm just, not used to people volunteering to help me, or Feliks for that matter."

Gilbert paused for a long moment before he finally affected a shrug. "Well, you know," he managed to mutter.

Toris nodded after a moment, "Thank you.  I, I really ought to go to the kitchen or something rather than be somewhere that I can't be found."

"I don't know," Gilbert said, "It might be better to stay close. I have no idea what the window of opportunity is going to look like... but that would probably be safer."

Rocking on his heels, Toris hesitated, "If Ivan finds out you're helping us..."

Gilbert shrugged. "Come on, the first rule of doing stupid shit is you can't talk about stuff like that. Go to the kitchen, I'll be along as soon as I find anything."

Toris offered him a wan smile but slipped out of the room, heading to the kitchen and setting to work on the dishes that needed doing to give him something to do with his hands.

Gilbert slid through the house, not planning on running into Ivan himself if he could. Part of him was still reeling from the fact that Ivan had stopped only at the sound of his voice. Turning a corner, he stopped from where it sounded like there were voices in the basement. Kneeling at the top of the stairs, he heard Winter's voice followed by Ivan's and tensed without retreating.

"Are you quite certain?" Winter asked.

"Yes," Ivan said. "Leave him, it doesn't matter."

Gilbert frowned and when he heard people walking up the stairs, he quickly hid behind the first door he could find, listening to two sets of footsteps leave. Once they were gone, he slunk down into the basement, looking around and behind the various boxes in the main room before approaching the door that was where the wine cellar was.

"You're not getting drunk in there?" he asked, leaning against the door.

"Seriously, Gilbert?" Feliks managed weakly from behind the door. "It would serve him right if I was."

"You're alone in there?" Gilbert asked and Feliks answered he was, though his voice sounded afraid at the fact that Winter had been asked to leave. "Well, you're not going anywhere but stay tight, alright?" he asked and retreated back to the kitchen, hauling Toris out by his collar.

Toris startled, instinctively wrenching away from the touch, but fell silent as soon as he saw who it was, shooting Gilbert a questioning and slightly panicked glance, but not voicing any questions. "Come on," Gilbert said and paused before returning to the pantry, glancing one way to the other before picking up a couple knives and hustling Toris away. "So, look, my brother offered you protection, right?"

He nodded, falling into step with the other man, "Yes, as far as I know the offer's still good."

"You're gonna want to take that up," Gilbert said, heading back for the basement. "Any keepsakes you want to take with you?"

"Nothing that I can't replace," he answered.  "How exactly are you expecting to get Feliks out?  Ivan set Winter over him."

"He's not there anymore," Gilbert said. "So I'm thinking you get him and you just run, okay?"

The brunet paled at that, but nodded, "It's the only idea we've got, so yes."

"Good," Gilbert said, taking the stairs down. He considered the door, fully intending to figure out how to pick the lock when it swung open with a push. He frowned but stepped aside to let Feliks barrel into Toris.

Toris caught the blond, wrapping his arms around him tightly, "Come on, we need to go."  His glance moved suspiciously toward the door that led to the wine cellar, surprised that it had been unlocked, but not questioning it.

"Come on," Gilbert said, seeing them up the stairs and out the back door. "You know how to get there from here?" he checked.

Toris nodded once, "Stay safe, Gilbert."  With those parting words he pulled Feliks with him into the dark and in the direction that would lead them out of the territory the fastest.

Gilbert nodded and stepped back inside, closing and locking the door. Within half an hour he watched the house erupt and though Winter looked at him with furious eyes, guessing he should have been watched, Ivan didn't appear throughout all the screaming and running around the house, trying to find Toris or Feliks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Deepest apologies for the time it took for this update--life and school got crazy. We're going to take a bit of a hiatus on this on (don't worry it will be finished!) due to a mixture of school and the fact that we had realized we had been writing mafia AUs for the past... six or nine months and needed a mental break.


	27. If I Need To Go You Have To Let Me

Toris froze at the end of the drive for the German House, out of breath and his feet aching, but uncertain that they were actually entering safety.  He glanced at Feliks and his mind flickered to the fact that Gilbert had let them out.  Drawing as deep a breath as he could, he pulled Feliks with him and up the steps of the German House, swallowing hard before pounding on the door.

It opened a second later, Vash having watched them come up to the door.  His hand rested casually on the gun at his hip, looking them both over with a frown.

"I—we want to see Ludwig," Feliks said, trying not to lean too hard against Toris. "You can even say Gilbert sent us."

Vash's eyes widened very slightly at that and he looked past them before stepping backward and letting them in, flagging down one of the servants and sending them to Ludwig's office to fetch the Head where he and Roderich were in conference yet again.

"I don't like it here," Feliks said under his breath, looking around and leaning his shoulder against Toris.

Toris swallowed again, nodding very slightly as he twined his fingers tighter against Feliks', shifting back slightly at Vash's glance, "It's rather open..." And he didn't know any of the routes in or out beyond the door they had just walked through.

"Anywhere else we could go?" Feliks asked, voice still low and hoping Vash did not have particularly sharp hearing.

"With Ivan on our heels?" Toris shook his head very slightly, "We, we can't get out of the city without help."

"You think we'll get out of the city even with help?" Feliks asked, looking over at him and tightening his grip on where he held his hand.

Toris drew a steadying breath, his eyes still darting around the entry, "No.  I, no, I don't."

"We could be here a long time," Feliks said, still looking over and tilting his chin slightly.

"At least it's, it's together," Toris said, mutedly, finally meeting Feliks' eyes.

For a moment Feliks only stared at him before biting his lip and nodding. "For once," he added and forced a smile as Ludwig appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What is going on?"

Toris’ gaze darted to Ludwig, startled by his appearance.  Vash turned to face the stairs, Roderich a step behind Ludwig, "These two arrived and demanded to see you.  Supposedly Gilbert sent them."

Roderich looked them both over, taking in the way they leaned toward each other and the lack of anything beyond the other, "What happened?"

Tightening his grip on Feliks' hand, Toris spoke as steadily as he could, "I was told you had, you had extended an offer of protection to us.  That hasn't been rescinded has it?"

"Should it have been?" Ludwig asked.

"Don't you fucking dare," Feliks snarled. "This is half your fault anyway."

"My fault?" Ludwig asked, only blinking once.

"Ivan saw Feliks coming here that day," Toris said, his hands shaking slightly, but his spine straightened and his chin came up.  "Is the offer still open?" He paused for a brief moment before speaking again, his voice perfectly steady, "Or am I going to a different House with what I know of the Russians?"

"How is Gilbert?" Ludwig asked.

"Alive, moving on his own," Toris paused, glancing at Feliks.  "He rarely even has a guard any longer.  And, as far as I know, any pain he was in early on is gone now.  He's healed."

"And otherwise?" Ludwig asked, coming down the stairs.

"Doing remarkably well," Feliks said, acerbically. "Will you protect us or not?"

Toris shifted his weight just enough to be poised to bolt, knowing Vash hadn't locked the door yet, but also knowing that he and Feliks would not make it much further if they had to run again.  Roderich glanced from Toris and Feliks to Ludwig, speaking in German, "Ludwig, there were no conditions on the offer when you made it.  They look as though they made their way on foot all the way from Russian territory."

Ludwig gave him a sharp look, the line of his mouth compressed before he nodded and turned back. "Come in and sit down. The offer is still there," though he looked like in hindsight he wished there had been conditions.

Toris hesitated at that before nodding as Roderich pushed open the door to one of the front sitting rooms for them to enter, "Thank you." Feliks nodded at them as they passed as well, still clinging to Toris' hand, leaning against his arm. Watching them go, Ludwig sighed, smoothing a hand compulsively over his hair before following.

Roderich entered last, glancing over his shoulder at Vash and nodding as the blond clicked the lock back into place and took up his post outside the sitting room.  Toris' gaze swept around the sitting room, considering the strength of the window panes at a glance and his fingers twitched to draw the curtains.  He took a seat on one of the couches, drawing Feliks down next to him, still poised as though to take flight as he watched Ludwig carefully.

The intelligence officer moved over, lowering himself into an armchair and resting his walking stick against its arm, "The two of you look like you've had a trying night.  I hope you'll pardon suspicion on our part.  We weren't expecting you to show up quite so soon." Or ever, really.

Feliks' laugh was far from amused. "And by soon, you mean like never, it's not going to benefit anyone by pretending things you don't believe in."

Ludwig's brows twitched up but he kept his mouth shut. Toris' fingers twitched against Feliks', the only flinch he would allow himself at those words.  Gaze darting between the two of them, Roderich's lips turned up into the faintest hint of a smile which quickly disappeared, "Quite. You're right though, there's surprise that you even showed up here."

Toris focused his gaze on Roderich's chin as he replied, "Circumstances came to a point where it became necessary. It's not as though we come empty handed."

"Yeah because Ivan being crazy is a circumstance now," Feliks muttered.

Toris clicked his mouth shut at that, keeping his attention mostly on Roderich as the intelligence officer pressed his fingertips together, "You have information to impart."

Pausing for a moment, Toris offered a tense twitch of his shoulders that might have been a shrug, "Ivan can only kill me once.  He'll assume I've told you everything whether I do or not.  Might as well make it true."

Feliks tensed. "Don't say that, he'll find a way to make it untrue." He paused for a moment, really wanting to be anywhere else when Toris talked about the Russian House and also incapable of leaving him or wanting to be alone in the German House. "Does this have to be now?"

"No," Roderich said, simply, pushing himself to his feet.  "You both are exhausted and tightly strung, anyone with eyes can see that.  Someone will show you to the guest rooms."

"You'll post a guard," Toris said, not even questioning it as Roderich nodded.

"For tonight."

Feliks made a discontent and almost angry sound but shrugged. "Alright."

"Can you at least tell me what you meant earlier about Gilbert?" Ludwig asked, trying not to look as tense as he felt.

Toris hesitated at that as he got to his feet, careful not to sway.  His eyes moved to focus on Ludwig's chin, "Which part?"

"Doing remarkably well," Ludwig said, dipping his chin down in annoyance when he noticed the fact that Toris looked at him without actually focusing on his face.

Toris' gaze instinctively flicked away to avoid Ludwig's, dropping lower rather than to the side, "He's adjusting to living there.  He, he misses you, deeply, but he's making the best of the situation he's in."

"And hey, being able to yell at Ivan and get away with it," Feliks said. "It must be nice holding that leash."

"I don't, I don't think he realized that would happen until it did," Toris murmured.  "Nearly panicked himself when it did."

"What?" Ludwig managed weakly.

"Ivan," Toris cleared his throat when the word came out shakily and he finally met Ludwig's blue eyes.  "Ivan threatened to kill us both. He stopped and, and left when he remembered Gilbert was there."

Roderich sighed, murmured a word under his breath that sounded vaguely like "pomegranate."

Ludwig's gaze was cutting as it flickered over to Roderich as Feliks held his hands up, miming quotation marks with his fingers. "Sure, _remembered_ that Gilbert was there." His hands were shaking though and he slowly lowered them again, twisting them in his lap.

"Feliks," Toris murmured, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.  "It surprised them both—Gilbert and Ivan I mean.  If, if we could please rest.  I'll be more able to talk in the morning."

"Of course," Ludwig said, forcing himself to at least sound gracious.

Toris swallowed, nodding very slightly, "Thank you."

Roderich looked between the two of them, pausing for a moment, "Will you want one or two rooms?" Feliks almost tripped over his own feet from where he was rising, looking over at Toris with his shoulders tense and still holding his hand.

Toris fell very still at that question, glancing at Feliks, uncertain how to answer.  Roderich's brows rose ever so slightly, making a decision, "We've two rooms you can have with a connecting door."

"Like, that would be good," Feliks said, looking away from Toris.

Roderich rose, leaving the cane at his chair and slipped over to the sitting room door, to send for someone to take Toris and Feliks up to the rooms he was thinking of.  Lili appeared moments later, her quiet voice humming through the half-open door in contrast to Vash's hissed protests.  She stepped in and looked from Roderich and Ludwig to Feliks and Toris, "If you'll follow me, I'll show you upstairs."

"Thank you," Feliks said, dragging Toris at his pace toward the door.

Roderich waited until the door closed behind them again before looking at Ludwig, "You're the one who offered them shelter."

"I am," Ludwig agreed, shifting his shoulders and feet. "I will not go back on that. But it surprised me, and you know we've had little news in a while."

"All the better that they arrive now, then," the intelligence officer said, picking up his cane.  "We'll likely have more need of the information Toris has now that things appear to be moving."

"Are things moving?" Ludwig asked, looking over and smoothing his hair down again.

"We'll know in the morning," Roderich replied, hands flexing on the haft of the cane. "With them arriving here, I would say that yes things are now moving."

"Or we will only have to wait longer," Ludwig pointed out. "And still hear nothing from Gilbert himself."

Roderich sighed, weariness creeping into his expression, "I'm going to allow myself to hope that we will hear from him soon."

Ludwig opened his mouth to snap again and shut it instead, taking a deep breath first. "I hope so too," he said.

"Get some sleep, Ludwig," Roderich said, heading for the door.  "Vash has already set up a guard rotation for their rooms, and there's nothing more we can do until morning."

Nodding, Ludwig followed him to the door. "Will you actually sleep as well?"

"As much as I ever do," Roderich murmured, stepping into the entry hall and letting his gaze drift to the front door before he turned to the stairs.

Ludwig sighed, watching him go. "Sleep well then," he said, fingers curling around his phone before shaking his head to himself.

Lili stopped in front of a pair of doors after leading Toris and Feliks up a flight of stairs and down three halls, "Here we are, there's a door between them.  If you need anything—"

Toris offered her a ghost of a smile, "We'll ask the guard I'm sure will be posted in short order.  Thank, thank you.  Good night to you."

"Thanks," Feliks confirmed, still pressed hard against Toris' side.

Toris opened the left door, ushering Feliks inside and closing the door, leaning against the wood and listening until he heard Lili depart.  As soon as he was sure she was gone he turned to actually consider the room, his body tense even as he kept a hand on Feliks.

He hesitated for a long moment, seeing a lack of moveable furniture, which meant nothing that could be braced under the door handles, or against the door easily.  The windows were narrow, but neither he nor Feliks were large men and could probably fit if necessary—a drop from the second floor wouldn't do too much harm if they needed to escape.  Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

"Stop staring at the place like that," Feliks said. "It's making me even more worried and I think I've had enough of that for one night."

Toris drew a deep breath and nodded very slightly, "We'll be fine."

Feliks shoved on his shoulder. "Don't say things to make yourself feel better."

"I'm not," he paused, shaking his head.  "Not entirely at least."

Muttering, Feliks finally stepped away from Toris, looking around the room himself before sinking down on the edge of the bed. Toris hesitated, tugging at the ends of his hair for a moment before he crossed over to join Feliks, casting a glance toward the door to the next room. "Are you leaving then?" Feliks asked, flopping over backward.

"Do you want me to?" Toris glanced at Feliks, not wanting to leave, but if Feliks asked him to he would.

"I don't know," Feliks said, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know what you want either."

"I don't want to go.  I almost lost you tonight, and I don't trust these people."

"Yeah," Feliks said to the ceiling not to Toris. "Don't really want to let you go either."

Toris paused before actually sitting down next to Feliks, running his fingers through the other's blond hair without thinking about it. Feliks tilted his head back, wiggling further up on the bed and reached a hand up to cover Toris'. "We're okay, yeah?"

Nodding, Toris drew a steadying breath, "Yes, we're okay."

"And we will keep _being_ okay," Feliks said, voice firm though he shook slightly again.

"Yes, we will," Toris said, his voice steadier than he expected as he stretched out next to Feliks, leaning his head against the other man's shoulder.

For a moment Feliks did not move before he rolled over, arm going around Toris' waist and holding on. "Shit. This is not what I expected."

Wrapping his arms around Feliks and drawing him close, Toris could feel himself trembling, "What did you expect?"

"That tonight I was going to go out and have drinks with a friend and go home and water my plant," Feliks muttered. "Fucking Ivan."

Tori ran a hand through Feliks hair, "I'm sorry, Feliks.  It shouldn't....it shouldn't have ever been like this."

"Save it," Feliks muttered. "I really don't want you to be the one apologizing."

"I," Toris cut himself off and nodded, his breathing shaky.  Drawing Feliks closer, he rested his forehead on the crown of Feliks' head, "We made it. I can't—"

"You know, next time I say, hey, maybe we should run, how about you do that before I almost get killed?" Feliks muttered but there was not bite behind it.

Toris flinched very slightly at that, "If there is a next time, we'll go when you say."  His fingers curled at the back of Feliks' neck, his other hand resting against the blond's wrist where he could feel his pulse.

Feliks flexed his fingers, feeling the shift of Toris' fingers there. "Good. Because you know, I fully recommend listening to me as part of a healthy diet."

That garnered a huff of breath that could have been a laugh and Toris drew back enough to look Feliks in the eye, "I'd probably better start doing it more then."

"Yes," Feliks said, twisting his fingers up hard in Toris' hair, his other hand still held.

Toris stilled at the touch, his hand moving from the back of Feliks' neck to curl around his cheek, Toris' fingertips resting just behind Feliks' ear.  He paused for the briefest of moments before leaning in and kissing Feliks, his desperation and fear leaking into his touch. Hesitating in surprise Feliks let his mouth drop open and pressed closer.

Drawing closer to Feliks, his thumb tracing over the blond's cheekbone and his other hand curled around his wrist, Toris leaned into the kiss, reminding himself that the other was safe and alive. Tilting his head back, one of Feliks' legs came up to rest against Toris' before he abruptly stopped and pulled it back.

Toris paused at that, his hand releasing Feliks' wrist and moving to rest on the other's knee to stop him from pulling back all the way. Which only resulted in Feliks yanking his leg all the way back and setting his hands on Tori's shoulders and pushing himself the full length of his arms away. Toris startled back at that, eyes wide and drawing far enough away that Feliks wasn't holding him off any longer, "Feliks?"

"Sorry," he managed, but reached forward still so his hands were just resting on Toris' hand. "Sorry."

"No, don't apologize," Toris said, looking him over.  "What did I do?"

He swallowed hard. "Don't hold me so I can't draw away," he said. "If I need to go, you have to let me."

Understanding dawned quickly and Toris nodded, "Alright.  Whatever you need."

"Tonight I need you just to hold me and not ask for anything else," Feliks said. "Can you?"

Toris nodded again, "I can."

"Thank you," Feliks breathed and shifted back to press the length of his body against Toris, wrapping his arms around him and staying there. Toris curled around Feliks, holding him close, his fingertips resting against the other's pulse point as he allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. "We'll be fine," Feliks said. "Don't you remember when we used to be at the orphanage and everything seemed scary, like it was against us? Well we had each other and we got through, and now we're together again so what can stop us?"

Keeping himself from saying the first thing that came to mind, Toris smiled faintly at that, "Nothing.  Not when it's you and me again."

"So don't you dare get separated from me again," Feliks muttered into his shoulder.

"Anywhere you go, I go now," Toris promised, quietly, fingers carding through Feliks' hair.

"I missed you."

"And I you.  But we're alright now, we're together, and we're safe," or near enough to safe to count.

Feliks' fingers curled in the back of Toris' shirt and he wanted to kiss him again but refused to after his panic earlier. Instead he shifted his head until it rested over Toris' heart. "Yeah."

o-o-o

Gilbert waited until the yelling stopped and the House seemed to be calming down before he slid into Ivan’s room. His skin itched and he wanted to run and not stop, but he remembered the way Ivan had looked up when he called his name, and how easy it had been to sneak Feliks and Toris out of the house.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it, spotting Ivan standing in the dark by the window after a minute. He reached a hand out to turn on the light and decided against it, approaching Ivan with only the light of the moon outside and the lamps along the driveway of the Russian house.

“They’re gone then?” Ivan asked and Gilbert felt his suspicions slide into place.

“You let them go,” he said, stopping next to Ivan next to the window and Ivan ducked his chin down as he looked sideways at Gilbert, the yellow and silver light both highlighting his white hair.

“Yes,” he admitted, hands twisting up in his scarf rather than reach out and touch Gilbert’s hair, stroke through the colors, and Gilbert turned to stare at him. “I did.”

For a moment they stared at each other before Gilbert reached a hand out to touch Ivan’s cheek, sliding down to rest over the sweep of his scarf. Ivan swallowed hard. “Why does no one ever want to stay?” he asked, his voice low and Gilbert frowned. “Why will no one stay with me?”

“What do you mean?” Gilbert asked, not dropping his hand and Ivan reached up, taking it in both of his larger ones.

“No matter what I do, people leave me,” Ivan said, voice shaking and nowhere near his usual tone. “I can’t make anyone stay. Why can’t I make anyone stay? Even Toris—he wanted to leave me. He cared about other people more, not me, and he left. Why won’t anyone stay?”

Gilbert turned his hand, fingers curling around Ivan’s palms, his other hand coming up to cover Ivan’s. “What do you mean he didn’t want to stay? Is that why you put on that whole production?”

Ivan nodded, a quick dip of his chin. “He wanted to be with Feliks,” he said softly. “I could not lose face.”

Opening his mouth, Gilbert almost asked what he meant before he remembered the stories of when Ivan came to power and his father’s former cronies had assumed he would be an easy target. “I don’t think your own House would have attacked you for it,” he said and Ivan’s eyes flickered up to him and then down again. “These people, they are loyal to you now. They might not have been before—But Winter, your sisters—”

“No one is loyal to me,” Ivan said, chin sinking down and Gilbert’s fingers flexed. “No one will stay.”

“You’re so fucking pessimistic,” he muttered.

“Realistic,” Ivan returned. “When I took you, you know what everyone did?” Gilbert mutely shook his head, feeling like the bottom of his stomach was trying to creep away. He had been in pain, and then cut off from his family. “The other Houses—they thought I was making a move against the Germans.”

“You killed their Head,” Gilbert said, throat dry. “It was a safe assumption.”

“He broke a promise to me,” Ivan said, voice dangerously low and Gilbert felt a shiver crawl down his spine. “I had not such problems with Ludwig.” Gilbert’s eyes flickered down at the mention of his brother. “But they all allied against me.”

“What?” Gilbert asked, eyes snapping back up in shock. “They—the Houses with Ludwig?”

“The English, the Romans,” Ivan said, his voice sounding hollow. “Even Sadiq Adnan. The Nordics stayed out of it, as did the Africans, but the Nordics allied with the English more or less.”

“That—” Gilbert started, floored by the idea of Ludwig holding all those alliances. “But that, they haven’t attacked you either.”

“Because they’re scared,” Ivan said. “They want me to make the first move.”

“But you don’t have to,” Gilbert said, squeezing Ivan’s hands hard and Ivan frowned at him. “You don’t have to attack them, you don’t have to make them scared of you, and not everyone is going to leave you.”

Ivan looked down at their hands before back up to Gilbert. “You’ll leave me, if you had the chance.”

Eyes widening, Gilbert almost pulled away and barely stopped himself. “No,” he said and Ivan frowned. “What we are—I’m not going to leave you.”

Ivan stared at him in shock and Gilbert forgot how to breathe. “You miss your brother,” Ivan said. “You hate it here.”

“But _I_ am not going to leave _you_ ,” Gilbert said, mind already working. He tugged his hands back and Ivan let them go. Sliding them up across Ivan’s cheeks and behind his head, Gilbert pulled him down, knocking their foreheads together and feeling the heat of Ivan’s breath in the small space between them.

Ivan made a pained sound, closing his eyes. “Everyone leaves me. Even Toris.”

Saying nothing, Gilbert titled his head back to nudge their mouths together, and it was slower than it ever had been before, just their lips brushing against each other and it gave his stomach butterflies. Ivan’s hands came around, resting on his hips and Gilbert leaned up on his toes and against Ivan so his neck was not bent so far back. They stood like that, in the light of the window for a long time.

“Come to bed,” Gilbert said when he finally drew back and Ivan stared at him before finally nodding slightly, Gilbert grabbing both his hands and pulling him with him as he walked backward away from the window.

o-o-o

"You're not technically my doctor," Antonio protested, carefully stretching his back and sides from where he sat on the edge of his bed. "See? The name on the prescription is different."

Alfonso picked up one of the painkiller bottles. "Hm. You also need to stop taking these."

"You're so cruel," Antonio whined, trying to twist around and wincing. "Alright, not moving that way yet."

"You have an addictive personality," Alfonso shot back. "The faster you stop taking them, the better." He almost set the bottle down and slipped it into his pocket instead.

Antonio groaned and laughed. "If I really wanted to get addicted to drugs, you realize how easy it would be for me to get them, right?"

Lovino spoke from where he had slipped in nearly silently while the brothers were bickering, "More difficult than you might think if Alfonso and I were both keeping you from it."

"Point being that I have no inclination to," Antonio said, pushing himself to his feet and glancing over at Alfonso. "See? Steady and everything."

Lips twitching up into a brief smile, Lovino leaned against the wall and watched Antonio before glancing at their doctor, "I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't strain anything, if that's your worry."

"You really think I'm going to trust you with making sure he doesn't strain anything?" Alfonso asked, arching a brow at Lovino and Antonio made a sound of protest.

Lovino's smile was sharp at that, "He's been on bed rest for quite a while, and I do actually take better care of him than you're implying there."

"Yes, but it's the coming off bed rest excitement—"

"Alfonso, please," Antonio managed, voice strained.

"You're worrying too much," Lovino said, watching Alfonso.

"No, I'm teasing you because you're both idiots," Alfonso said, rolling his eyes. "And you are so easy."

Lovino shook his head, "If you're done then?"

Alfonso tipped an imaginary hat to him. "I suppose so."

Lovino watched him go before turning back to Antonio and crossing the room to join him, "About time you were on your feet again."

As soon as he was in reach, Antonio snagged him around the waist and drew him in closer so he could press their mouths together. Hands tangling in Antonio's shirtfront, Lovino pressed close to the other, parting his lips under Antonio's. Laughing into the kiss, one of Antonio's hands came up to smooth over his cheek before tangling in his hair, the other on his waist.

Antonio drew back, laugh low in his chest against Lovino's hands and his own breathing a little shaky. "There, I feel better now."

Lovino chuckled, grinning up at him, "Good. And if Alfonso's feeling good enough about your state to tease us, then you're in good shape."

"That's not what I was feeling better about," Antonio said, lifting both his hands to brush at Lovino's hair, feeling the texture under his fingertips. "Everything is better now that I can properly kiss you again."

That garnered a laugh, "Well, I'm glad of that, too."  He glanced toward the bedroom door, "Are we leaving the room, or staying here?"

"Is there somewhere you'd rather go?" Antonio teased.

"You're the one who's been trapped in here for a week or more," Lovino replied.  "I'd prefer to stay here, really," He pressed himself flush against Antonio, his haze eyes alight.

Antonio groaned, fingers tightening reflexively in Lovino's hair. "I'm not that well yet," he muttered.

Lovino smirked, twitching his head to shake off Antonio's hands as he stepped back, "Well, in that case we probably ought to leave."

Groaning again, Antonio dragged him back. "You're being a tease."

"You just said you're not well enough for this," Lovino said, lips still curved upward.

"Shut up," Antonio said, biting his lower lip lightly.

The younger man smirked at that, pressing up against Antonio again, "It's good to see you on your feet again."

"Yes, well," Antonio said, distracted as he slid his mouth along Lovino's, feeling the catch of his mouth against the other's. Lovino's breath hitched and he curled his hand around the back of Antonio's neck, dragging the other man down a bit further. "We should," Antonio started and kissed him again. "Go. I have been in this room too long."

Lovino drew back slowly, wrapping his hand around Antonio's wrist, "Come on then.  Where shall we go?"

"Anywhere," Antonio said, dropping his hand down to hold Lovino's.

Pausing at the door, Lovino looked at Antonio and bit his lower lip, "How dead would Alfonso kill us if I suggested we go dancing?"

Antonio blinked and moaned. "That's not a fair suggestion."

"Are you physically able to do that?" Lovino returned, his hand still resting on the door.

"Should I? Probably not. Can I? Probably," he said, following Lovino.

Lovino smirked at that, slipping out of the room and down the stairs, "I'm pretty sure there's a room toward the back where we might have some time before your brother catches us."

"Well now I feel like a teenager sneaking around without approval," Antonio laughed.

"I'd rather get a dance with you before he catches us," Lovino replied with a smile over his shoulder as they reached a little-used room near the back of the first floor.

"A slow dance," Antonio said, and leaned over Lovino's back to slide his mouth along his cheek.

Lovino shuddered at that touch, nodding, "A slow dance is best, yes."

Antonio stepped into the center of the room, considering some of the scattered tables and chairs that had clearly gone out of date and been shoved in the back rather than dealt with. He moved one chair with his leg before deciding the center was clear enough and held his hands out for Lovino.

Placing his hands in Antonio's, Lovino looked around the room and nodded slightly at the space they had, "I've missed dancing with you."

"I would hope you had missed other things too," Antonio teased.

Lovino smiled at that, "Oh I did, but it's been longer since we danced than since some of the other things." Antonio couldn't help but kiss the corner of Lovino's mouth as he adjusted their hands "Your lead," Lovino murmured, shifting a hair closer.

Antonio laughed. "I would believe so. Though I would not mind if you wanted to lead more too."

"I don't mind following you," came the answer, speaking about more than the dance.

For a moment Antonio stilled. "There was a time I never expected to hear you say that."

"A lot's changed since then," Lovino replied, meeting Antonio's gaze steadily.

"And I am so thankful for that," Antonio murmured. "Do you have any music?"

He nodded toward a cd player in the corner, "There's some music next to the player over there."

Turning his head, Antonio considered the layer of dust and odd wires sticking out. "Hm," he managed before shrugging and starting to hum instead.

Lovino laughed, following as Antonio started to lead them through the dance, "My only criteria was a room that it would take Alfonso a while to find us in.  I didn't really think about music."

"That's alright," Antonio said, once he established the beat enough to remember it.

"Maybe we'll try for actual music next time," he suggested, focusing on following and not the tingle in his spine at Antonio's humming.

Antonio's chuckle cut off the sound for a moment before he picked it back up, carefully sweeping Lovino around the room, mindful of both his injuries and the furniture. Lovino ducked his head to hide a smile at that, moving easily with Antonio through the simple steps of the dance that was far more cautious and gentle than their usual fare.

"Later," Antonio started. "I would like to actually dance with you."

"When there's less worry over how much damage you could still do to yourself," Lovino agreed.

Antonio stopped humming, though he continued guiding Lovino around the room. "I am glad you're safe though."

"So am I, but I'd be happier about it if it didn't come at the price of your health," Lovino replied. "I'm going to need something to do, 'Tonio. I'll go stir-crazy otherwise."

"I—" Antonio started, mind slowly catching up to the subject change. "Instead of guard you mean."

"We both know I can't stay in that position."

"Yes," Antonio sighed, pushing him into a turn and pulling him back. "You have expressed that and I suppose I cannot disagree. It's what I wanted after all. What would you like to do?"

Lovino followed through the steps, hand finding Antonio's again as he came out of the turn, "I don't know.  I've never looked past being a guard.  It's why, it's why I was so angry when you suggested it originally."

"No ideas at all?" Antonio asked, because the idea of Lovino as anything except his guard felt wrong. He should have been thinking about it more as well.

"I don't—" He paused, considering for a moment, "An advisory role of some sort might not go wrong.  It might mean coming to meets you have, but not as likely to be present in scenarios like the last one."  Lovino shook his head, "Though I'm not sure there are other people I trust to have your back if something goes south like that again, you might actually get out of there before you get shot if it's not me there with you."

"I am a coward about most things," Antonio agreed.

"That was not what I meant," Lovino replied, tersely.  "But you might be less inclined to take risks if I'm here waiting for you rather than there in it with you."

"No, that is what I meant," Antonio said, stopping and cupping Lovino's face to turn it up. "I usually run, I know how to kill people and get out of bad situations. But I'm not a coward around you, because wanting to protect you overrides that. So yeah, if you're here, waiting—"

Lovino leaned into the touch, tilting his head slightly to the side, "Then we'll make it work.  I'll go let off a few clips in the range if I get too antsy about it all, or something."

"Just not at three in the morning?" Antonio teased, brow twitching up.

That earned a hint of a smile, "Not at three in the morning. There's always better things for me to be doing at that hour."

"Indeed there is," Antonio said, his voice dropping.

"But not until Alfonso clears you," Lovino replied with a smirk.  "Another couple days probably?"

Antonio bared his teeth in a quiet snarl. "He didn't clear us the first time either and somehow we made it work."

"You're the one who told me earlier you weren't that well yet," Lovino reminded.

"I can change my mind," Antonio said.

Lovino paused for the briefest of moments before stretching up and kissing Antonio. Opening his mouth, Antonio shifted his hands back, their bodies already close from the dance. Fingers tangling in Antonio's dark hair, Lovino licked his way into the other's mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding over the roof of Antonio's mouth as he pressed himself closer to the other.

"Well so much for behaving," Antonio managed when he drew himself back.

"Your brother's going to kill me," Lovino muttered, but shifted his hands to rest at Antonio's waist.

"Don't worry, he'll come after me first and give you time to escape," Antonio said, wishing he could just pick Lovino up and carry him off but knowing even if he physically could it would be a bad plan.

Lovino chuckled faintly at that, leaning up to kiss at Antonio's jaw, "Bed?"

"Yes," Antonio said, dragging him behind him.

It startled a laugh out of Lovino as he quickened his steps to keep pace with Antonio.

"I think it's certainly time for you to come back," Antonio added.

"I thought it would be better for your healing if I wasn't there at night," Lovino admitted, though it had been strange to spend a week of nights away from Antonio—not including the time he had spent in the hospital.  "But I'm long since ready to be back."

"It probably was," Antonio agreed. "But I've gotten used to having you there."

"I've gotten used to being there." Lovino glanced at him, trying to keep his tone light, "Try not to get hurt badly enough that it comes to this again—my old bed is hard and cold."

"Yes, and hugging pillows just isn't the same," Antonio said, finally reaching the stairs and forcing himself to slow down.

"No warmth for one," Lovino said as they made their way up the stairs, not voicing the fact that he had nearly panicked himself more than once that week when he woke and reached for Antonio to remind himself that the other man was still alive and didn't immediately find him.

"No heartbeat," Antonio added, his eyes dark as he looked back at Lovino.

Lovino's eyes darted away at that before he caught himself and looked back, "No heartbeat."

Hesitating a moment, Antonio rested his hand on Lovino's chest before taking the last few stairs. "Come on." Lovino followed, barely waiting until they were closed in the bedroom again before he pressed a desperate kiss to Antonio's lips. "It's pathetic to miss someone who lives in the same house," Antonio said, already yanking Lovino's shirt open. "But I did."

Lovino tugged at Antonio's shirt, fumbling over the buttons, "I was here every day."

"But not at night," Antonio said. "When I had far too much time in my own head."

Lovino's hands stilled for the briefest of moments before he continued, his voice pitched wrong as he spoke, "I'm a distraction?"

"What?" Antonio managed, drawing back. "Lovino, no."

"Oh damnit, that was not..." Lovino dropped his gaze, "I didn't mean to say that. I knew what you meant."

Antonio cupped Lovino's cheeks, tilting his face back up and his smile was wry. "You're going to obsess over a misunderstanding again if I let this go, aren't you?"

The left corner of Lovino's lips quirked up, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes, "No.  I know what you meant.  Hell, it's how I've felt the last week."

Antonio sighed but smeared his mouth along Lovino's cheek, stopping to nuzzle against his temple. "I love you," he said, nose still pressed into Lovino's hair. "And I don't mind convincing you of that for the rest of my life."

Drawing closer so that he was pressed nearly flush against Antonio, Lovino nodded, "I know you do.  I’m sorry, I'm hearing things wrong again." Antonio's laugh made his chest ache. He tilted his head, drawing Lovino up to kiss him again, thumbs resting on his cheeks. "I love you," Lovino murmured, his lips brushing against Antonio's.

"I adore you," Antonio said, one hand sliding down to rest his thumb against Lovino's collarbone, stroking the bone. "Everything about you I treasure, even the parts that really annoy me because they're still you."

Lovino snorted at that, "Do you ever listen to yourself when you say things like that?  I'm not complaining, but they're really sappy."

Antonio laughed and nodded. "Yes. But sometimes the sappiest things seem to penetrate your head."

"That's because they don't usually exist in the real world," Lovino said, amused.

"But you remember them," Antonio said, smile bright.

"I guess I do at that," Lovino paused before leaning up to kiss Antonio again. "We're talking too much."

"Oh sorry would you like us to do something else?" Antonio laughed, pulling up on Lovino's hips.

"Now who's teasing?" Lovino responded, finally sliding Antonio's shirt off of his shoulders.

"I have no idea what you're—" Antonio started, throwing Lovino's shirt away, "possibly talking about," and he hooked his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him up for another kiss before pushing his pants down.

Lovino groaned, making quick work of Antonio's pants and pushing him toward the bed, "Bed.  Now."

"As my lover commands," Antonio laughed, carefully sitting down and dragging Lovino to him.

o-o-o

Stepping out of a cafe in the neutral zone, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand, Matthew let his gaze sweep around the street.  Quickly categorizing the people nearby, he slipped around an older couple and continued on his way.  He had been looking for any information he could find on the person Liam had been meeting and he had narrowed their meeting place down to a couple of bars.  He just wasn't sure how to go about more than that or if he should.  It was probably a better idea to leave it alone, but something about the way Liam had snarled had his back up and his mind working overtime.

He turned a corner toward one of the bars he was planning to check and paused as he scanned the street, eyes widening when he saw a familiar face, "Leon."

Leon startled a step back, looking around the street quickly before focusing back on Matthew. "Hello."

"What are—" Matthew broke off and shook his head, glancing around the street again before motioning to a dimly lit establishment a few storefronts up, "Do you have a couple of minutes?"

"You're not spying for Alfred again, are you?" Leon asked but he backed up several steps toward where Matthew had indicated. He held the books he carried higher up against his chest.

"Not today." Matthew said, following him after a moment, "Today I'm trying to track Liam's movements the other night."

"I really cannot help you there," Leon said, shaking his head and stepping inside the shop, quickly finding the emergency exits and looking at the faces of the other shoppers.

"Not asking you to," Matthew said, glancing at the other shoppers and locating security cameras. "I'm surprised to see you is all."

Leon finally looked over at him, actually taking the time to consider him for the first time since he left the English House. "Yes, well, I do occasionally emerge into the sunlight."

Matthew's lips kicked up into a bit of a smile, "Not quite what I meant, but twice in the same year after not seeing you at all for so long?"  He kept half his attention on the rest of the store but turned to face Leon more fully, blinking once when he realized how much Leon had changed from the mental image he had of him.

The corner of Leon's mouth twitched up slightly at the blink. "Yes, I grew up, that happens when you hit the teenage years."

That garnered a wry chuckle, "I suppose it does at that.  Hadn't realized how long it's been, I guess."

Leon's brow twisted up. "Well, I can't say you look that much better, considering the circles under your eyes."

Matthew paused at that, looking mildly affronted before he covered the expression, "I've spent the last seven years chasing after Arthur and Alfred, did you expect them to fade?"

"Well at least they haven't broken your vanity," Leon remarked, turning toward one of the shelves to look like they were actually shopping and not having a secret meeting—accidental or not.

Matthew picked up a trinket from one of the other shelves turning it over in his hands, "It's not a good trait to have, leads to over-confidence." His hands tightened and he set the glass figurine down again before he dropped it when he heard Arthur in his words rather than himself.

"If you break that you pay for it," Leon said, only mildly sounding like he was teasing. "So Arthur's doing well then?"

"As well as he ever does," Matthew replied.  "He's in another relationship and I'm currently making offerings to heaven and hell alike that this one lasts because it will be disastrous if it doesn't."

"Don't those usually implode in six months because he can't control his sneaky nature?" Leon asked, picking up another glass trinket and holding it up to the light.

"Something like that.  He and Jaqueline lasted longer than that, so I'm holding out hope," the blond replied, adjusting his glasses as he considered the display on the shelf, glancing at Leon out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, but she was in House," Leon said and paused. "Is it in House again?"

Matthew picked up a white glass polar bear and nodded, turning the figurine over in his hands, "Yes. Which means if it goes bottom up there will be a lot of issues."

"Still want a polar bear then?"

Laughing, he set the thing down again, "I think Liam and Alfred and I have decided that the logistics of it would be too much of a hassle."

"Be pretty bad ass though," Leon remarked.

"It would, which is why I'm still tempted."

The corners of Leon's mouth twitched up again. "At least some things don't change, then." He carefully set the figure down and slipped around the shelf to the other side, cocking his head at the candle holders there. "You really just chose a random store, didn't you?"

"Mostly, yeah," Matthew said with a wry twist of his lips.  "It wasn't as brightly lit from the street as the others which means a moment more before people lock onto familiarity of a face."

"It's stupid to meet at all," Leon said, eyes flickering up to look at Matthew through the shelves.

"You could have kept walking," he responded, blue-violet eyes sharp behind his glasses.

"Well, I never made the claim to be smart myself."

Matthew paused, considering his next question before asking it regardless of misgivings, "How closely does Yao watch you?"

"Close enough," Leon said. "He thinks that I would still run away, and he finds the idea quite distasteful."

"Distasteful," Matthew's tone was dry and he shook his head. "You've a way with words."

Leon shrugged. "I'm not sure it would actually make him angry or not, but he doesn't like other people touching his toys."

Matthew's lip curled into a sneer before he caught it, "As though you're some sort of thing to be owned."  He shook his head, trying to rid himself of outward signs of his anger and distaste at that, murmuring without thinking, "How do you deal with that?"

Leon's brows twitched together. "By living anyway. By keeping secrets."

Matthew rubbed his fingertips over his eyebrows, "Of course.  And if I'd been thinking I would have put that together."

"Then why aren't you thinking?" Leon asked and sounded almost amused.

"I'd claim it's Alfred rubbing off on me, but I think it's more a lack of sleep," Matthew admitted honestly, with a hint of a smile.

"You should sleep more," Leon said, still watching him from the other shelf. "It might even help the shadows under your eyes."

Matthew paused, meeting Leon's eyes for a moment, "I'll give it a try, but I may be too much Arthur's blood."

"What's really bothering you?" Leon asked, resting his hand on the shelf and pausing before he dropped his eyes and picked up the candlestick near where his hand landed.

Matthew picked up a blown glass larkspur, biting back the list of effects of that plant's poison on the human physiology, "I could identify poisons by age ten, and now I look in the mirror and don't know if it's me anymore or my uncle.  Everything but the position of Head," he paused, "though I grow less and less sure that he wanted that post."

"Just because you were raised to be something doesn't mean you have to be," Leon said. "If you don't want to."

"And what would Alfred do when he does eventually come to power and he doesn't have someone who knows what they're doing in the shadows?"

"I don't know," Leon shrugged. "But you're not living for yourself so how do you think you'll help either of you?"

Matthew sighed, setting the glass flower down again carefully, tracing his fingers over it, "I don't know yet."

Leon's eyes drifted away. "My memory is a bit foggy, and admittedly, a lot of what I've been hearing about Alfred is from Kiku. But he's not helpless."

"No, he's not.  But he's brash, and not well liked in the city," Matthew replied, mutedly.  "Besides, I've spent most of my life worrying about him.  It's a hard habit to break."

"I'm not saying you should break it," Leon huffed, shifting his books from one arm to the other. "But maybe fit your own life in around the corners of worrying about him."

Matthew smiled at that and shook his head slightly, "I'll try, certainly."

Leon huffed. "You'll try?"

Matthew spread his hands and offered a slight shrug, "I'll try my best?"

"Try," Leon shook his head. "You shouldn't have to try. You should decide on something and act upon it."

"Which means coming to a decision first," Matthew replied.  "If I can find something of my own life I'll make sure to fit it in."

"You could get a polar bear."

Matthew laughed briefly at that, "I could indeed.  That would certainly satisfy having something other than worry over Arthur and Alfred."  He paused, shrugging, "I have my writing, I suppose."

"Have you been keeping up with that?" Leon asked, and his voice still sounded light enough but his eyes were darkening.

Matthew nodded, watching Leon carefully and catching the shift in his expression, "Frequently, yes.  I'll probably need a new journal soon, again."

"Good," he said. "I remember you used to write... surprisingly beautiful things, sometimes. When it wasn't overly sentimental."

Biting the inside of his lower lip, Matthew smiled faintly, "Sometimes sentiment's what shows up on the paper.  Hasn't been lately, but sometimes."

"It's not always a bad thing," Leon backpedaled quickly. "But your—the things I really remember weren't."

"Thank you," Matthew said, pausing as he realized how long it had been since he had let anyone see what he wrote. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Leon asked, eyes finally lifting up to watch him again. "Are you asking what I have of my own?"

Matthew met his eyes through the displays for a moment as he nodded and picked up a small glass fox that had been on the shelf next to the polar bear.  He dropped his gaze to the figurine, "That was what I was asking, yeah."

"I don't know rightly," he said after a beat. "Subversion, I suppose. It's easy enough to give advice you aren't actually taking, isn't it?"

Matthew chuckled wryly, glancing at Leon and beginning to think it had been a bad idea to stop the other, "It always is easier to say than to do."

"I read," he said, almost musing. "I play card games with Mei. Lately I've even been watching Kiku take his photos. But," he stopped, catching Matthew's eyes and holding them.  "I forgot how much I missed the House. This was a mistake."

Opening his mouth to protest that, he caught himself before he spoke that lie, "It, yes, it was.  You, you're part of an entirely different House now."

"It wasn't really my choice," he said, pushing away from the shelves.

"Seems like not much in your life has been," Matthew said before he thought through the words.

"Choices are apparently things for other people," Leon said, walking down the aisle.

Matthew paused and then moved to catch up, meeting Leon at the end of the aisle, "If you could make a choice, what would it be?"

"What?" he asked, shock evident in his eyes. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because someone needs to.  Because I've been listening to Alfred talk about how things can eventually change.  Take your pick"

"Alfred's always been an idiot," Leon snapped. "It's not a fair question. I'll probably end up with more power where I'm at, than I ever would have in a House with you and Alfred and Liam all Arthur's blood. That doesn't mean I don't—"

"We're the family he's stuck with, not the one he chose," Matthew said, mentally cursing his lack of filter before returning to the topic at hand.  "I didn't even mean allegiances.  I just, if you could have control over your life what would you do with it?"

"Get the fuck out of town and go somewhere with a beach," Leon said, voice carefully expressionless.

Matthew's lips twisted at that, "A beach?"

"A warm one," he said and gestured his free hand slightly. "You know, with palm trees and stuff."

Chuckling, Matthew shook his head, "I guess I hadn't ever thought of beaches when I thought about getting out of this city."

"You'd go to the pole that has polar bears, wouldn't you?"

"I was thinking more mountains than polar ice cap, but an adventure up there might be exciting," Matthew said with a shrug, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"But it doesn't really matter, does it?" Leon asked, swallowing hard. "We're not going to get out of here and I don't get a choice."

Matthew curled his hands inside his pockets to keep them in place and he glanced away, "No, I suppose it doesn't really.  And so we read and write and carve out what little space for ourselves we can."

"And it doesn't really matter in the end," Leon said "Either way they're just words."

"Words have changed things before," Matthew said and then shook his head.  "And I sound far less cynical than I actually feel at the moment."

Leon looked down and away. "I should go. We already have been here too long, looking suspicious."

Matthew nodded, taking a step back, "Far too long.  Be careful, Leon."  His bit the tip of his tongue, knowing how empty the final phrase could ring.

"As opposed to what? Rushing into danger? Kiku is supplying us with enough of that as it is."

"He and Alfred both," Matthew agreed.  "Good bye, Leon." Leon hesitated a moment longer before giving a curt nod and heading for the door. Matthew watched him go before slipping back to where they'd been standing and picking up the fox figurine, taking the few minutes to purchase it before leaving.  He returned to the house rather than continue his pursuit of whoever it was that Liam had met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! We're back! The muses have reawakened in the midst of a tiring quarter of grad school, but we'll hopefully be able to offer at least intermittent updates and we really hope you enjoyed the latest offering.


	28. And Everything Else is Saying Something Else

When Matthew arrived at the house, he curled up on a couch in the back parlor with his journal, writing blindly.  Imagery of poisoned flowers wilting and moths around candle flames danced out of his pen to darken the pages.  Dark hair and eyes too old for a seventeen-year-old mixed with ideas of loss and broken hopes on the following page.  He frowned at the page and did something he'd never before done—he struck out what he had written in his private journal and tore out the page, pocketing it to burn and leaving the page of flowers and candles to oversee the blank space remaining.

Alfred made a shocked sound from the doorway, "Dude. You never rip stuff out of your journal."

Matthew startled and looked up, his eyes wide, "How long have you been standing there?"

Alfred shrugged. "Couple minutes. Long enough to see you were being super intent and serious."

"I had an idea.  It didn't work," Matthew replied, snapping the journal shut and hooking the pen over the cover.

"Yeah, but you still never tear it out," Alfred said, inching into the room. "Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe I just do it when people aren't around," Matthew said, dropping his gaze to the journal.

"Uh, sure," Alfred said, sitting down and eying the spine. "Which is why it's really obviously only that one page."

"It's not important," Matthew said, setting the journal on the table next to the couch and curling up a bit more.

"Your mouth says blah," Alfred said, holding his hand up and mimicking a mouth moving with his fingers. "And everything else is saying something else. So seriously, what's up?"

Matthew stared fixedly at a point across the room, "I ran into Leon in the neutral zone."

Tensing, Alfred turned to look at him slowly. "It's been a long time since I've seen him."

"This is the second time recently.  He's the one that told me Kiku was going to be alright when I went looking for information," Matthew murmured, still focused on the wall.

Alfred nodded, remembering the slick feel of fear in his stomach and shoving the door closed in Matthew's face that night. "Yeah. How's he doing then?"

"Better than he could be but worse than he lets on, I think," Matthew answered after a moment.

"Well, he's out at least," Alfred said, a point in the better than he could be category. "What's the worse stuff then?"

Matthew ticked items off on his fingers, "He misses the House, Yao's a possessive bastard, and when his question about having a life of his own was turned around on him he was able to tell me he reads."

Blinking once, Alfred leaned back against the couch, hands behind his head. "And in his defense, how did you answer that question?"

"In his defense I admitted I still write."

Alfred shook his head slightly. "You're both awful, in other words."

"Something like that," Matthew agreed, looking toward the journal again.  "I'd forgotten I used to let him read my stuff."

Alfred huffed out a breath. "Yeah, you almost never let me. And then you never let me." He paused, looking at the ceiling. "You miss him, don't you?"

"More than I thought I did," his brother agreed, drawing one of his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it.

"It's weird that it took seven years," Alfred remarked, still looking at the ceiling. "I sortta miss him too."

"I mean, I've missed him, don't get me wrong.  But I didn't realize how _much_ ," Matthew muttered, picking up his journal from where it sat next to the small fox figurine and running his hand over the leather cover.

Alfred looked down in time to catch that motion. "Where'd the fox come from?"

"Huh?  Oh, I picked it up today."

Leaning forward, Alfred picked it up. "You're not usually the knick knack type."

Matthew made a half-hearted grab for the figurine, "Give that back.  It caught my eye is all."

Alfred looked over at him in surprise. "Uh-huh?"

He receded quickly at that, curling his hands around the journal again, "It was that or blown glass larkspur and having a glass version of a poisonous plant just didn't appeal to me."

"How long were you two talking anyway?" Alfred asked, watching his brother closely.

"Longer than we should have been," Matthew answered.

"So you miss him," Alfred summarized, putting the fox back down. "You bought something that reminded you of him and then you wrote something that distressed you enough you tore it out of your journal."

"He seems to think that he would have had less sway in this House since you and Liam and I are all Arthur’s blood.  At least that's what he told me," Matthew tipped his head back to let it rest on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Alfred paused, looking back at the ceiling. "Weren't we all convinced of the exact opposite?"

"I'm still convinced of the opposite," Matthew replied.  "He was more Arthur's son than any of us."

"He was the only baby Arthur dealt with," Alfred said, hands behind his head. "You know, we were pretty well formed, and Liam came with his dad but Leon—all he had in the world was Arthur for a while. I think he liked that."

Matthew's lips quirked into a ghost of a smile at that, "Do you remember the firecrackers?"

Alfred groaned. "For such a quiet kid he liked listening to loud noises. We wouldn't have just been a little dead though for that stunt, we would have been totally dead."

"That was the point at which I figured out exactly how much he was Arthur's favorite," Matthew admitted.  "I had an inkling of it and then _that_ happened."

Alfred laughed, shaking his head. "Like, the kid was perfect for Arthur and he thinks he wouldn't have been heir if he stayed? I guess he was only ten or something."

"The only way he wouldn't have been heir is if Arthur hadn't become Head," Matthew said.  He paused for a long moment, "He's grown up.  A lot."

"What is he now anyway? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Seventeen.  I think."

"Did he ever get taller?" Alfred asked. "He was such a little thing."

"He's still not very tall, but he hit a growth spurt at some point," Matthew said, not thinking before he continued.  "Puberty was kind to him."

Alfred looked at him sideways. "Oh?" he couldn't help pressing.

Matthew's eyes opened at that and he fell very still, "Fuck, I said that out loud didn't I?"

"You did," Alfred nodded. "Did his sudden hotness break your filter?"

"Oh shut up," Matthew muttered, tipping his head forward.

"No, dude, you just admitted someone was hot, this is monumentous," Alfred crowed, knocking against Matthew's shoulder.

Matthew offered him a grimace in response, "Yeah, great.  Brilliant, he's attractive. And that is so far beyond the thought I do not need to be having about him.  Especially not now."

"Yeah, but think of all the Shakespeare I could start quoting at _you_!"

"Please don't," Matthew groaned.  "All I said was he's attractive."

"And the fox figure, and the writing," Alfred said.

"Those are, those are irrelevant to this."

"Really?" Alfred said. "So you weren't writing about his pretty eyes or something?"

"Not like you mean," Matthew answered after a moment, figuring he'd already dug his grave.  "They're too old for his face.  I don't know if that makes sense, but they are."

Alfred stilled, before he nodded. "It makes sense. There are people, especially among the gangs and they look a hundred years old already when their faces are young."

"I just, he's seventeen.  He shouldn't have that look in his eyes," Matthew muttered before finally pushing himself to his feet.

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, still leaning back with his hands behind his head.

Matthew picked up the fox and his journal, looking his brother over for a moment, "You'll have to find a different Shakespeare to quote.  Romeo and Juliet doesn't fit."

"Yeah?" Alfred said, arching his brows up. "You're kinda doing the same two Houses thing."

"We also weren't raised in separate Houses, and this is not going to go further," Matthew insisted.

"I remember saying that too, you know."

"The comparison still doesn't fit as nicely."

"No," Alfred agreed. "Not quite. I'll find something though."

"Good luck with that," Matthew muttered.  "I'll see you later, Al."

"Yeah," Alfred said, still looking at the ceiling. "Good luck, try not to do anything stupid I wouldn't."

Matthew snorted, "That leaves me a wide range of things I could do."

"Hm," Alfred hummed. "You're right. Maybe that was a bad idea." He grinned, still not looking away, "Just don't get killed then."

His brother stared at him for a long moment, "As long as you do the same."

"I'll try," Alfred said. "Though if we're both meeting up with the Asian House, Yao is going to lose his fucking mind."

"Arthur's going to skin us alive, too.  You more than me."

"Yeah, but he's less paranoid, god help us," Alfred said. "He won’t burn the place down, just kick our asses."

Matthew paused at that, considering whether or not to say anything, but shook his head and slipped out of the room instead. Alfred frowned when he was gone, hands behind his head and sprawled out on the couch. Leon had been the quiet kid brother but it had been a long time since Alfred thought of him, or what their relative positions might have been.

o-o-o

Carmen leaned against the sink in the bathroom, her gaze focused on the test in her hand, trying to decide whether to be elated or upset over the result.  She was coming down on the second more solidly than the first.  This promised to be a disaster when it came to light, and it was sure to.  She looked up, tossing the test in the trash when she heard a sound at the door.

"What's wrong with you in there?" Eva demanded, leaning her bare shoulder against the doorframe, hair pulled up messily at the back of her neck.

"What do you mean?"  Carmen raked a comb through her hair, stepping out of the bathroom to face the other woman.

"It's been a long time is all," Eva shrugged.

Carmen looked Eva over for a moment before shrugging as well, "I haven't been feeling well."

"Not feeling well? How not feeling well?" she asked, eyes completely focused on her guard.

"I've been nauseated on and off for a little over a week, and exhausted," she answered, leaning against the wall.

"Have you seen the doctor yet?" Eva asked, leaning forward and resting a hand on her forehead. "You're supposed to be in top condition, you know."

Carmen rocked back slightly at the touch, "Not much the doctor can do.  I was late this cycle too."

Eva drew back, folding her arms over her chest. "What?"

"I'm pregnant," she bit out.  "I can have a doctor verify, but the test was positive, I've been suffering nausea, and I should have started my period a week ago."

"Yeah, I was getting there," Eva said. "Who the fuck have you been sleeping with?"

Carmen tilted her head to one side slightly, enough that it was almost a shrug, "A doctor, ironically enough."

"Not Diego," Eva said, an eyebrow twitching up in alarm at the idea.

Carmen nearly choked on her slightly hysterical laughter at that, "God no.  Can you honestly imagine me sleeping with Diego?"

"No, which is why it was such a thought," Eva said and shook her head. "He's good at what he does and that's what I'll say for him. Which doesn't answer my question of who my guard has been sleeping with."

"I don't think you've met him," she answered, still trying to duck the question.

"Carmen," Eva said, warning in her voice.

Her guard braced herself, tensing for whatever response would come, and answered quietly, "Alfonso Carriedo."

She was greeted with a long moment of silence. "I better have heard that fucking wrong."

Carmen winced, shifting onto the balls of her feet, "No, no I'm pretty sure you heard right."

There was another moment of silence. "Are you mad?" Eva managed.

"Probably," Carmen replied, watching Eva.

"The fucking Spaniard's brother?" Eva started and her voice pitched higher as she continued. "You kept it secret from me, and now you're pregnant?" She was almost yelling by the end.

Carmen flinched at that, "It had nothing to do with the Houses.  He was a warm body."

"Yeah, and I admit the family is a pretty one," Eva said, vicious. "But you still slept with him. How long?"

"Before his brother came to power," she replied, holding her ground.

Eva stared at her. "You're being remarkably honest considering what you're telling me."

"I'd rather not be caught out in another lie so close on the heels of this one," Carmen said.

"I should demote you," Eva said, voice low. "I should lock you in a closet for nine months so you don't do something stupider. For fuck's sake, didn't you use protection?"

"Of course we did, I’m not an idiot despite all evidence to the contrary," Carmen replied, trying to keep her tone from sharpening.

Eva's mouth thinned and she snapped a hand out, grabbing Carmen's arm and dragging her out of the hallway. Carmen yelped and instinctively tried to twist away from Eva's grip, but decided that was a mistake and followed the Head of her House without further protest. "You just had to drop a mess in my lap," Eva muttered, dragging Carmen into a side room and closing the door behind them, leaving Carmen at a chair before starting to pace.

Carmen sank down into the chair, watching Eva for a long moment before speaking, "I could get rid of it."

"What?" Eva looked back over her shoulder. "Would you want to?"

"It would make things simpler, but no I don't think I would want to," Carmen replied, meeting Eva's gaze steadily, her fingers laced together and her elbows resting on her knees.

Eva sat down on the footrest in front of Carmen. "If you want to get rid of it," she said, seriously, "I'll help. If you don't, I won't demand it, even if it makes my life difficult and I swear to god if I die because Ricardo is watching my back because you're as pregnant as a whale, I'm haunting your sorry ass. And your stupid boyfriend. And his brother out of spite."

Carmen actually managed a laugh at that, "You could always have Sofia step in for a while. Or Armando."  She considered for a moment, "Perhaps not Sofia."

"Not Sofia," Eva agreed. "Ricardo's good at his job, more so lately, especially when he's paying attention and not writing some sentimental story in his head."

"He is good at his job.  But he does get distracted," Carmen replied.  "A secondary guard would not be a bad idea for a while."

"I'll talk to Armando," Eva said, rubbing a hand over her face. "And pregnant or not you're stuck with me until you start showing more."

"It should be a good couple of months yet at least," she said, offering Eva a faint quirk of her lips, though her eyes were still uncertain.  "Thank you, Eva."

"Yeah, well, right now the image of you holding a screaming little human is keeping me from fully freaking out about the father," Eva huffed and looked away.

"He's not his brother," Carmen offered, weakly.

"Uh-huh," Eva managed. "He's still part of that family. I'm not sure I even want to ask how this all started, or if you love him or not. I don't want to know. Have you told him yet?"

"I only confirmed just before I told you," she answered.  "He doesn't know yet."

"When are you going to tell him?" Eva asked.

"I don't know.  I was," she paused, "I was supposed to see him tomorrow night."

"You sure you wanna meet him alone for this?" Eva asked.

"No.  But I'm not sure I want to meet him with someone either."

"I'd probably give the wrong impression," Eva agreed after a beat.

"I'll be fine.  I'm less worried about him and more worried about what happens when his brother eventually finds out," Carmen said, leaning back in the chair.

Eva shrugged. "He'll blow hot air and do nothing."

"How much of this truth are we telling the others?"

"Right now," Eva started. "I think that's up to you."

Carmen ran a hand through her dark curls, "Well, it will be apparent I'm pregnant in a few months.  And I doubt it will be possible to conceal the father for any great length of time."  She sighed, closing her eyes, "It's also a decision I don't think I'm able to make today."

Eva nodded. "Not tonight then."

"After I talk to Alfonso.  I'll sort out how much to tell them then."

Eva nodded. "Don't think I'm happy, but tell me what you need."

Carmen nodded slightly in response, "I would never presume to think that in this situation.  But thank you."

Leaning forward again, Eva patted her knee. "You're still my girl, one of my own. I just hope you don't mind it when your baby grows up fatherless."

Carmen reached over and caught Eva's hand, "You are not allowed to kill him.  Not unless it actually comes down to it in a firefight."

"Yes, yes, I know," she said, grin sharp.

Drawing her hand back again, Carmen nodded once, "Good.  Intimidate if you must, where his brother won't shoot you, but do try to leave him breathing—and as unscathed as possible."

"Not even a few scars?" she teased.

Carmen tried and failed to hide her grin at that, "No scars, Eva."

"I'll try my hardest," she agreed finally.

"That's all I ask," Carmen said, finally pushing herself to her feet.

"You will be careful, won't you?" Eva asked, watching her from where she still sat.

"I promise," she replied, offering Eva a ghost of a smile.  "I'll be as careful as can be.  I want to see you have to deal with my squalling infant, so I'd better be careful, no?"

Eva laughed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah you really want to be around to see that."

Carmen grinned, "You need me for anything, I'll be downstairs."

"I'll be sure to bother you," Eva assured.

Carmen touched her brow and slipped out of the room, reminding herself to breathe—she only had to break the news of her illicit lover to the Head of her House once.

o-o-o

Gilbert stared at Ivan's shoulder, his arms wrapped around his chest and listened to him breathing. Ivan slept curled up on one side, knees drawn up as if he was forever trying to make himself small. The first few nights, he had woken up when Gilbert settled against his back, so tense it was impossible for either of them to get back to sleep, but Ivan was as uncomfortable with Gilbert curled up against his chest too.

Now Ivan trusted him enough to turn his back to him and sleep like that, his chest expanding with deep breaths and shifting Gilbert's hands. Kissing Ivan's shoulder, he felt the larger man shift underneath his hands and settle back down.

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert slipped out of the bed, watching Ivan the whole time he carefully dressed himself, even bothering with the suit jacket this time and tying the tie because it gave him a few more moments of watching Ivan sleep.

He wanted to lean over and touch Ivan's hair, or kiss him again, but didn't dare in case he woke up now. Instead, he rooted around until he found Ivan's cell phone, and slipped a small revolver he had discovered one day while exploring Ivan's rooms when he wasn't there into his pocket, after making sure the safety was on. He hesitated another moment, knowing that if Ivan woke up in that instant he was in more trouble than he was likely to walk out of.

Taking another breath, he opened Ivan's window, which was on the ground floor unlike his former rooms and slid outside.

o-o-o

Roderich removed his glasses to rub his eyes, glancing at the clock and biting back a curse as he realized what hour of the morning it was.  Placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he returned to working through a transcription of his shorthand notes on what Toris had told them earlier that day.  "At least we have some more idea of what is occurring the Russian territory," he glanced toward Ludwig, narrowly keeping himself from recommending sleep and then a call to Feliciano.

"A lot more," Ludwig agreed, cheek resting on his fist as he tilted to one side. "But not enough. I'm ready to just storm in there and demand Gilbert back."

"He has no reason to release Gilbert, though.  That's our problem.  We've no real bargaining chip.  Even with what we know it would be tantamount to suicide to make the first move, and he's already turned down all negotiations," Roderich sighed.

"It just—" Ludwig started and bit off a frustrated snarl. He jumped in his chair when there came a loud pounding from the front door that they could hear even from the office. "Is someone kicking the door?"

Roderich was on his feet and heading for the office door, "That's what it sounds like."  They reached the top of the stairs in time to see Vash opening the front door, gun in hand.

He was almost instantly spun around by Gilbert. "Oh my god you have no idea how happy I am to see your stupid face."

Vash startled, shoving Gilbert back, though there was a hint of a smile in his eyes, "What the—Off, get off!" Roderich started laughing, his knees nearly folding in his surprise and relief.

"No, fuck off Vash, you do not even know," Gilbert started and then stopped, looking up at the sound of Roderich's laugh and stopping for a moment when he saw Ludwig standing with his jaw dropped. Almost instantly he was running up the stairs and Ludwig only just had time to brace himself before Gilbert threw himself at him.

Vash closed the door, straightening himself up, but smiling faintly as he watched the brothers.  Leaning against the banister, Roderich didn't even try to hide his relieved smile, "Oh thank god."

"Gilbert," Ludwig managed and he might have imagined it a dream except that Gilbert was laughing into his ear and warm and solid against him.

Finally, Gilbert pushed himself back. "Alright, let me look at you, all Head of the House now," he said holding Ludwig out by the shoulders. "Have you even slept since I left?"

"Sometimes," Ludwig admitted, holding his palms against Gilbert's elbows. "You've lost weight," he frowned. "And—and why are you in a suit?"

"An expensive suit, too," Roderich said, appraising the cut and fabric from where he stood.

Gilbert made a shushing motion at him and Ludwig pulled him closer again. "How are you? Are you physically well? Your ribs—"

"Fine," Gilbert said. "They're fine, I'm fine."

"Your leg seems to be doing well," Roderich considered him as much as he could.  "And you look more rested than half this House does."

"Well that's a fucking lie but it's cute of you to say," Gilbert said, looking over and letting go of Ludwig with one arm long enough to hook it around Roderich and pulling him toward him. "I missed you too, you asshole."

Roderich tensed at that before letting himself be pulled in, "You've had us out of our minds with worry, you bastard."

"Yeah, sorry," Gilbert said, holding both Roderich and Ludwig.

Drawing back after a moment, Roderich looked Gilbert over, "How did you get out?"

"Come on," Ludwig said before Gilbert could answer and pulled him back into the office.

Roderich followed them, closing the door once they were inside and moving over to pick up his notebook from where he'd dropped it on his way out of the office. Gilbert shifted, looking around. "Oh my god, Ludwig," he managed, considering the obsessively clean lines of the office. Closing up his laptop and pocketing his mobile from the corner where he always worked, Roderich glanced toward Gilbert with an amused glint in his eye.

"What?" Ludwig blushed and Gilbert leaned his whole body against Ludwig, laughing.

"It's just you," he said and Ludwig tugged him closer.

"How did you get out then?" he asked, forgetting how often Gilbert would drape himself over the nearest person, and how much Ludwig used to protest so much casual touch.

"And where did you get that suit?" Roderich asked.

"Ivan," Gilbert said, considering the painting that he had almost missed when he entered. "And I went out the window."

"What?" Ludwig managed after a moment.

Roderich nearly dropped his notebook again before asking, almost too calmly, "Did you happen to eat any pomegranates while you were there?"

"Pomegranates?" Gilbert asked as Ludwig spoke at the same time.

"Which window?"

"Ivan's bedroom," Gilbert admitted easier than he expected himself to be able to. He frowned when Ludwig sat down hard.

"Oh good god above, Gilbert!"  Roderich stared at him, "You're serious."

"First, a question," Gilbert said and pointed to the painting. "You sleeping with who did that yet?"

"Yes," Ludwig said.

"Little Italian art student?" Gilbert asked and Ludwig nodded again. "Awesome," Gilbert said and sat down on Ludwig's desk, between Ludwig and Roderich. "Alright, so you're both having some really interesting reactions."

Roderich leaned against the wall, "You just told us that the very expensive suit you're wearing came from Ivan, and that the window you climbed out of to return here was his bedroom window.  What reactions did you expect us to have?"

"Yeah, but it's a more resigned shock than an actual shock," Gilbert said. "Good god, what have you people been saying about me since I was gone?" His tone was teasing and offended in one and Ludwig grabbed one of his hands, holding.

"I've been re-reading Greek mythology," Roderich replied dryly before his tone shifted to a more neutral one.  "We tried to negotiate with Ivan about an exchange and he turned us down.  There were a limited number of likely reasons for that."

Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. "Fantastic.

"But," Ludwig started and shifted uncomfortably. "He didn't—I mean, he didn't force you did he? You're not—"

"No," Gilbert said, perhaps too quickly. "He's actually," he stopped, suddenly not wanting to call Ivan pathetic or a coward with Roderich watching him so closely and Ludwig looking so concerned. "Something of a gentleman when it comes to that."

"But," Ludwig frowned. "You did—"

Gilbert hesitated again, shifting slightly. "Yeah."

"Pomegranates," Roderich said, shaking his head.  "You've been treated well?"

"Aside from the broken ribs and the kidnapping," Gilbert nodded.

"Why did he even kidnap you in the first place?" Ludwig asked. "After killing Otho—"

"Yes, that is the one thing I haven't a clue about," Roderich said, his attention focused on Gilbert still.

Gilbert shifted after a moment. "He killed Otho for breaking the pact with him. Uh, apparently he only started it in the first place because he—" he broke off, shrugging.

Ludwig's brows twitched up in alarm. "Did he create the pact in the first place to sleep with you?"

"More or less," Gilbert shrugged again, holding both his hands up. "I guess. He said it was to get to know me."

Roderich gaped at him, "Forget Persephone.  You're goddamn Helen of Troy."

"Then again, maybe I didn't miss you," Gilbert said, looking at the ceiling.

"Just because you resent the fact that it's true..." Roderich replied, sighing and shaking his head.  "On a more immediate note, what happens when he wakes up and finds you're gone?"

Gilbert stilled for a moment before he pulled the revolver out and the phone, brandishing it. "Not the first time I've nicked his phone. I'll call, we'll talk."

"Wait, what?" Ludwig said, leaning forward. "Your plan was to escape just to talk to him?"

"Well, yeah?" Gilbert said, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

"Did this brilliant plan of yours involve anything more than that?" Roderich asked, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"Not much more," he said and looked back at Ludwig. "Alright, some more. I'm not good at planning though, you should know this." He paused, chewing his bottom lip before shrugging again. "I couldn't stay there forever. But I can't just come back either."

"Brother," Ludwig said, bolting out of the chair. "What do you mean? You're not going to—"

"Sh, Ludwig," Gilbert said, pushing him back down by the shoulder. "I need to talk to him. There's things we need to work out. I was sortta hoping we might even manage an alliance."

"An alliance?" Ludwig asked. "With... with him? He killed the last Head."

"Sortta remember," Gilbert said. "Sortta there at the time."

"But an alliance?"  Roderich looked skeptical, "What makes you think that would work?"

"Because he wants one," Gilbert said, folding his arms over his chest.

"And because he gave you that suit?" Ludwig asked.

"You also just ran away after he fell asleep," Roderich pointed out.

"Gilbert," Ludwig said, shifting forward slightly. "You're already Persephone and Helen of Troy. I don't want you to become Icarus too—"

"Would you stop?" Gilbert muttered.

"—But if this was just an affair to Ivan, he's going to come down like a ton of bricks on your head, not accept an alliance," Ludwig said. "If you've misjudged him—"

"It could be disastrous," Roderich finished.  "But, if you're right and it's not just an affair, you would be the best one to broker the alliance."

"I'm not wrong," Gilbert said, tense.

Roderich nodded, not questioning that again, "And you say he wants an alliance?"

"I think it would be good," Gilbert said, still tense. "He wants allies. And," he stopped before he brought himself into the conversation. "He's very lonely."

Considering that, Roderich looked past Gilbert to Ludwig, "It wouldn't be a bad idea."

Ludwig scowled. "He kept you prisoner," he said and Gilbert looked back at him. "He killed our grandfather and took you away and you want me to join him in an alliance? Why do you talk about your kidnapper as if you're half in love with him?"

For a long moment Gilbert didn't answer. "Because I think it would be best for the House, not to have him angry at us. Because those months were quite a long time to get to know someone."

"You're still," Ludwig started and bit it off.

Roderich removed his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve as he spoke, "We don't really have much of a choice, do we?"

"You always have a choice," Gilbert said, watching Ludwig. "You're the Head, you can do whatever you want. But I'm asking you, for me and for the House. You don't want him as an enemy and I certainly don't." He met Ludwig's eyes levelly. "If you ask me to fight him for you I will. If you say no, I'll figure something out. But please, Ludwig, I'm not just saying this because I want it."

Roderich spoke quietly, looking at Ludwig again.  "We have a choice, he's right.  But it would also be in our benefit to ally with Ivan.  We're not now, nor do I think we ever truly will be, ready to face him on opposite sides.  It's a good move, strategically."

Ludwig's hands clenched for a moment, forcing them to relax. "Gilbert," he started. "Brother. I just want to make sure you're not doing something because you have to. I don't like this idea, I don't but—"

Bringing his legs up, Gilbert swiveled around on the desk so he was facing Ludwig fully. "Not because I have to, because I want to, brother, I promise."

"If it's an affair," Ludwig said, eyes serious. "If you break it off later, if it doesn't work out, the alliance would probably break. Most inter-House affairs are not good politics, it is stupid to base something off such... such matters that often fall apart."

"I know," Gilbert said, still meeting his eyes. "But please brother."

Roderich paused before crossing over to lean against the end of the desk, considering Gilbert for a long moment, "You really care about him, don't you?"

Gilbert paused for a long moment. "He grows sunflowers," he said finally. "He has scars on his neck from where his own father almost killed him. He cried when Toris and Feliks ran away." He shifted, uncomfortable. "Yeah, I do."

Roderich nodded once and turned his attention on Ludwig, "It wouldn't be the only alliance we have at least in some part because of a personal relationship."

"Yes and no," Ludwig murmured, looking down. "It's just a lot to adjust to. And that's if he's even still willing."

"Well," Gilbert started. "I guess we'll know if it's just an affair then."

"And you have his phone," Roderich confirmed with Gilbert.  "When are you going to call him?"

"When he wakes up," Gilbert nodded. "I probably should before but since I took his phone—I'll try for seven."

Roderich nodded very slightly, "Wise choice."  He rubbed a hand over his eyes, "And if the call goes well you'll meet him tomorrow?"

Gilbert nodded and Ludwig's hands tightened again.

"Who will you take with you?"  Roderich asked, eyes darting toward Ludwig and then back to Gilbert.

"Ludwig," Gilbert said, glancing back to confirm. "Vash if he's awake, or Elizaveta. But I think to actually talk to him I should be at least mostly alone."

"He could kill you," Ludwig said. "I've just got you back I refuse to lose you again."

"If Gilbert meets him with two other people actively there, rather than waiting at a distance, it could be seen as a lack of trust," Roderich said, holding up a hand to forestall any comments.  "I'm not saying we do trust him, but it's best not to outwardly look like we distrust him when trying to form an alliance.  Exact details can be sorted out during the phone call."

Ludwig tensed but finally nodded. "No offense," Gilbert said after a beat. "But I'm not sure even Vash could bring him down in time anyway."

"He's still mortal," Ludwig said, jaw set and Gilbert laughed.

"Oh yeah, he is, but that doesn't mean he's an easy man to kill."

"And I question whether his guard is," Roderich said, lips twitching.  "No doubt Winter will accompany him."

"Of course," Gilbert said. "You know, I've still never seen that man smile."

"In all the time you've been in that House and you haven't seen Winter smile?"  Roderich shook his head, "Does he have emotions?"

"They're way down," Gilbert said and moved his hand. "Way down."

That garnered a laugh from Roderich, "I'm not sure whether that makes him more terrifying or not."

"More," Gilbert nodded and looked back over his shoulder at Ludwig. "It will work out though."

"I'm glad someone at least has confidence," Ludwig said, ducking his chin down.

"I should leave you two alone, let you talk," Roderich said, pushing off from where he had been leaning on the desk.

Gilbert's eyes snapped back to him and he gave him a weary smile. "I did miss you, you know. Even if it is your fault I've been stuck in suits for weeks now. I'd possibly kill someone for a pair of jeans."

"I've missed you too," Roderich replied, his lips twitching upward into a fond smile.  "Your clothes are still in your room, so no murder necessary."

"Oh thank god," Gilbert said, leaning back. "Not that you know, I've totally minded the suits but man."

"You look good in the suits," his friend offered.

Gilbert offered him a wavering smile. "Thanks. I'm never taking one of your challenges again."

"Probably a good idea.  Chances of us playing music again soon?"

"So soon," Gilbert assured.

Roderich offered him a smile at that, "Good."  He glanced at Ludwig and paused, "If it's alright, I think I'm going out for the rest of the night?  I'll be available on my mobile if anything comes up, or if I'm not back before you meet with Ivan."

Both the brothers nodded. "We'll be fine," Ludwig said and Gilbert leaned forward to catch his hand up.

Roderich nodded once, and started for the door, pausing once he had it open, "It's good to have you back, Gilbert."  With those words he slipped out of the office and headed to the garage to get one of the cars with GPS in it.

Ludwig and Gilbert looked at each other a moment before Gilbert grinned. "So tell me about Feli then."

"Oh god," Ludwig groaned but stood up so he could hug Gilbert tight to his chest from where he still sat on the desk. "Alright, alright, we can talk about Feli." Gilbert smiled, petting his hair and holding on.

Roderich pulled up to the Mediterranean House nearly an hour later, offering the car's GPS a scathing look and deciding that cursing at a piece of machinery was beneath him.  He had hoped that if given step-by-step instructions he might actually manage to drive somewhere he wasn't familiar with.  So much for that.  He stepped out of the car, locking the door and taking the steps up to the front door of the house.  He hesitated and then knocked sharply, glancing at the sky and seeing it was fully dark, someone should still be up.

There was a moment before the door opened. "Can I help you?" the sleepy-looking boy on the other side asked, though it was obvious his hand was on a weapon.

Roderich held up his hands to show he was unarmed, "I was hoping to see Sadiq."  He finally caught a glimpse of the time on his watch and nearly swore when he saw that midnight had come and gone hours before.

The boy blinked before shrugging. "Sure, I'll wake him up," he said but closed the door in Roderich's face.

Leaning his forehead against the door, Roderich muttered a curse under his breath and drew back again, removing the glasses from his face to rub his eyes.  Three AM.  He was standing outside the Mediterranean House at three in the goddamn morning unable to recall exactly when his life had come to this.

Several minutes later, the front door finally opened back up, Sadiq on the other side blinking owlishly, not wearing his usual mask though the boy had followed him and was trying to hold it out to him. "What?"

Roderich blinked rapidly at him, caught off-guard by his lack of mask, and started speaking before he even processed he was doing so, "I should have waited until morning, but this night has been one thing after another, and I got caught up and didn't realize what hour it was.  It should not have taken me nearly as long to get here as it did, but if I'd actually looked at a clock I probably would have thought twice to begin with."

Sadiq blinked at him again and stepped back. "Come inside," he said, though he looked half asleep still, his hair standing out everywhere.

Stepping inside, Roderich raked a hand through his brown hair, looking caught between frazzled and exhausted, "It has been a hell of a night."

"What happened?" Sadiq asked, resting his hand on the small of Roderich's back and pushing him toward the kitchen.

"Good things, if tomorrow, I mean later today, goes well," he answered, following the guidance without protest.  "Gilbert's come back."

"Gilbert?" Sadiq asked in surprise, shooing a cat off the kitchen counter and sneezing. "He came back in the middle of the night?"

Roderich rubbed his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose and shoving his glasses up his forehead to do so, "He climbed out of Ivan's bedroom window to do so."

Sadiq stared at him before going to the fridge and pulling out honey, meaning to make coffee to put it in. "How much are we going to have to batten down the hatches when Ivan wakes up?"

"Gilbert's calling him at seven, and if that goes well he's meeting him.  If it goes badly?"  Roderich sighed heavily, "We'll need to batten them down entirely."

Sadiq nodded, pouring the honey into a cup and holding it out, forgetting to put coffee in it. Roderich accepted the cup and looked at it, smiling faintly before setting it back down on the counter, "I'm so very sorry I woke you."

"You were worried," Sadiq said and frowned at the cup, picking up a tabby and moving it away from the counter. "And it's a good warning to have. Have you slept at all?"

"Tonight or this week?" Roderich replied, "No to the first, yes to the second."

Sadiq sighed, hand going to his back. "You need to sleep," he said. "I need to sleep. Come on."

Reminding himself not to lean on Sadiq, Roderich let Sadiq guide him through the house and up to the main bedroom.  Between his exhaustion and the fact that the house was laid out differently than the German house, Roderich had little doubt he was going to have to ask someone to direct him out come daylight.

Sadiq muttered something about shoes, but fell onto the bed and dragged Roderich with him without actually doing anything to remove them. Roderich twisted in his arms enough to reach his shoes and unlace them before kicking them off.  He managed to get his jacket and tie off as well before setting his glasses on the table next to the bed.

Shifting around enough to throw an arm around him, Sadiq settled down and seemed to almost instantly fall back asleep. Stilling at that, Roderich glanced toward Sadiq, but closed his eyes and regulated his breathing to match the other man's, slipping off to sleep quickly.

o-o-o

Ludwig rubbed his eyes, but despite several nights of not sleeping and staying up all night again, he did not feel tired. "Are you sure you should actually call him?" he asked.

Looking up from where he was back to sitting on Ludwig's desk, Gilbert nodded, thumb rubbing absently over the screen of Ivan's cellphone. "Yeah, I'm really sure. Not just for the alliance."

"I'm worried," Ludwig admitted quietly and Gilbert laughed, head tilting back.

"You worry over everything," he teased. "If you weren't, then I would start to be worried."

Ludwig glanced outside at the dawn. "Aren't you even a little bit frightened that he might not be what you think he is?

There was a moment of silence before Gilbert gave a tiny and curt nod. "But fuck, man, have I ever let that stop me?"

There was a quiet knock at the door before Lili opened it and stuck her head in, "Ludwig, I brought you—" Her eyes widened and she stared at Gilbert in shock, "You, you're back!"

He grinned, spreading his arms out. "Do I get a hug for that?"

She offered him a bright smile, setting the cup of coffee she was carrying down on Ludwig's desk and all but throwing her arms around Gilbert, "You're alright."

"Fine," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "It's good to see you."

She hugged him tightly for a moment before pulling back, "Can I get you anything?  I didn't realize you—when did you get here?"

"In the morning," he said, "The way early morning."

"Two am," Ludwig said. "More coffee, please."

Lili glanced toward Ludwig an nodded, "Of course, I'll get that."  Her gaze darted between the two of them, "Anything particular for breakfast?"

Gilbert started to shake his head and stopped. "Wurst isn't really appropriate for breakfast is it?"

"Probably not," she replied, but paused.  "But I'm sure it could be arranged."

"And this is why you're the sweetest angel," Gilbert laughed as Ludwig buried his face in his hands.

Lili laughed quietly as she started for the door, "Anything you want besides coffee, Ludwig?"

"Eggs," he said, Gilbert already inhaling the coffee that had been brought for him.

She nodded, looking at Gilbert again, "It's good to have you back."  She slipped out of the office to get breakfast and coffee for the brothers.

Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward. "I forgot how much I missed everyone."

"Elizaveta is going to hit you for not waking her up," Ludwig remarked and Gilbert groaned, dropping his head forward.

Several minutes later there was another soft tap on the door, this one more hesitant than Lili's had been.  It opened, Toris bracing it with his shoulder and carrying the tray with their breakfasts, freezing when he caught sight of Gilbert.

"Are you still carrying breakfast trays?" Gilbert asked in surprise and Feliks poked his head around Toris' shoulders when he recognized the voice. Usually when Toris tried to make himself helpful, Feliks simply followed him around and didn't enter the rooms.

Toris managed to recover his voice after another moment, entering the office and balancing the tray in one hand while he moved the plates and two cups of coffee off of it onto the desk, "It's something to do."

"Still," Gilbert said and grinned over at Feliks who narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm glad you made it safely here," he added, Ludwig looking at his back oddly.

Toris' lips twitched upward into a faint smile at that, "Thanks to you.  You're alright?  I mean, clearly alright enough to manage to make it here, but..."

"We'll see in a little bit," Gilbert said, still holding Ivan's phone.

Eyes moving to the phone Toris blinked twice, "You have a strange affinity for stealing that phone."

Gilbert laughed. "What? It's not like I could have asked him for his number on the way out of the door. Though, I suppose I could have asked you..."

"Probably best not to depend on the fact that we would be here," Toris murmured, but his tone was slightly amused.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm glad you made it alright."

"Sure," Feliks said, still leaning against the doorframe. "Alright."

Toris looked at the phone again, "When are you calling him?"

"Seven," Gilbert said. "And hoping he didn't wake up because I wasn't there already."

"He's going to be far from happy about this."

"Any significant advice for me not dying?"

Toris paused for a moment, considering that, "Apologize for leaving in the middle of the night.  If he's calm enough to actually listen—meaning hope to god that you call before he wakes up—explain.  You might be surprised how willing he probably is to listen to you."  He added the last sentence more for Ludwig's sake than Gilbert's.

Gilbert grinned. "See, that's what I expected." He sobered up for a moment. "You do realize he let you go, right?" he added and ignored Feliks' choked and angry sound of disbelief.

Toris fell very still at that, his confusion from the night they had left finally making sense, "You're serious."

"Yeah," Gilbert hummed. "Something about not losing face since you wanted to leave so much."

"I'm gonna kill him," Feliks growled.

"Feliks," Toris shook his head as his mind reconfigured Ivan's actions in that light.  He turned his gaze back to Gilbert, speaking quietly, "I couldn't keep living like that."

"Yeah, I know," Gilbert said. "He figured that out too I guess."

"The House is loyal to him now.  He," Toris sighed, "I understand why he did it that way, but it wouldn't have seemed weak to anyone there to do otherwise."

Ludwig arched a brow and Gilbert nodded. "Yeah. But this is the kid who killed his father's entire inner circle when he came to power."

Toris nodded, "I said I understood the why of it."

"You realize you're going to end up the Ivan translator for the city now, right?" Feliks asked and Gilbert snapped his attention over. "I mean, if you survive the day."

Toris' lips twitched upward faintly at that, before the expression disappeared again, "I'm sure you'll survive.  I've never seen Ivan react to someone like he does to you."

"I'm not sure _I_ find that reassuring," Ludwig muttered behind them.

Toris tensed slightly at Ludwig's voice and turned enough to look toward him—reminding himself not to avoid Ludwig's eyes like he did with Ivan, "He'll be alright."

"He just worries," Gilbert said, waving a hand and his grin didn't meet his eyes. "I'm glad to see you're both alright."

"And I'm equally glad to see you are as well.  I'll see you later, Gilbert.  Good luck," Toris said, heading for the door, empty tray in hand.

When the door closed behind them, Gilbert glanced back at Ludwig. "What?"

"They probably won't have to stay here," Gilbert said after a beat. "You know, if Ivan's not going to come after them."

"Probably not," Ludwig agreed and shrugged before looking at the phone in Gilbert's hands. "Are you going to call?"

Gilbert flicked the screen open, Ivan never having figured out how to lock it with a passcode. "Yeah," he said, staring at the time and taking a deep breath. "Guess so."


	29. I Can't Live Like a Chained Animal

Ivan woke up slowly, which was not always common. When he needed to, he could snap to attention at a moment's notice, but since Gilbert started sleeping in his bed, he found himself enjoying sleepy mornings more.

Which was why it took him a moment to notice the fact there was no warmth behind him. Rolling over, he reached out a hand out, frowning when the bed was not only empty but cold. Feeling the blankets, he sat up, noticing that Gilbert's suit was also gone. Which was odd considering Gilbert usually curled up around him until he had to pry the other man off to get out of bed.

Rising, he dressed quickly and poked his head out the door. "General," he said, the guard standing in the hallway, as he usually was around the time he knew Ivan woke up. "Has Gilbert been past this morning?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Has anyone seen him?" Ivan asked and Winter shook his head again.

Yekaterina and Natalia came around the corner, carrying on a low conversation which stopped abruptly when Natalia caught sight of Ivan, "Brother?  What is it?"

"Have you seen Gilbert this morning?" he asked, turning to look at them.

Natalia shook her head glancing at Yekaterina who did the same, "We had thought he was in your room."

"So did I," Ivan said, frowning and gathering one hand up in his scarf, the other going to his pocket and frowning when his phone was not there.

"I'll go see if perhaps someone saw anything," Natalia said, watching Ivan for a brief moment before turning to retreat.

Ivan nodded, still looking at his pockets, before looking up at Winter and Yekaterina as he headed into his room to search for the phone. "Where could he have gone?" he asked, both directed to them and not. "And where is my phone? You haven't happened to have seen that have you?"

"The last I saw it, you were on it.  Last night before you went to bed," his older sister replied, pausing for a moment as she considered the first question.  "Could he, could he have gone back to the Germans?"

Ivan froze, straightening slowly before he turned to look at her. "What?"

She shifted back slightly at that, "Is it possible that he went to his brother's House?"

"But," Ivan started. "He said—he said he wouldn't." Except Gilbert hadn't, not really. He had just said he would never leave and wasn't that the same thing?

Something in Yekaterina's expression softened nearly imperceptibly at that, "Perhaps, perhaps he managed to slip out early this morning, and he's just in another part of the house here.  Natalia will be able to tell us soon."

"Then," he frowned, turning back and riffling through a drawer. "Where is the _phone_..."

"We could call it," his sister suggested, watching him.

He looked at Winter and nodded. He flipped his older phone out and dialed the number to no response. "It's gone," Ivan said and sat down hard on the edge of the bed when there was no sound. "It is never on silent."

Natalia appeared in the doorway of the room, "No one's seen him in the house.  I have people double-checking, and searching the grounds.  I can set people to start looking through the territory, too, if you want."

"He wouldn't still be here, if he's gone," Ivan said, sitting on the edge of the bed, and looking at his hands.

"We know where he's gone, in that case," Natalia said, crossing her arms and toying with the hilt of one of her hidden daggers.

"Do you suggest attacking the Germans?" Winter asked, looking over.

She paused, considering that, "No.  Not with the entire city backing them."

Yekaterina looked from her brother to her sister, "Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we know where he is.  Which means we could find a way to establish contact.  Find out what the hell he was thinking."

"No," Ivan said, looking down. "He wanted to leave. That's all there is to it. He never wanted to be here to begin with."

Natalia's hands clenched and she drew a deep breath, remembering her conversation with Gilbert, "But, but it can't end like this."

"What's ending?" Ivan shrugged, tilting his head back finally to smile at them. "It doesn't matter."

Eyes narrowing, Natalia grit her teeth, trying to figure out if this was something to push.  She caught Yekaterina's eye and the older sister shook her head.  For once, Natalia listened and forced herself to relax, "If you think so."

"Yes," Ivan said with a tiny nod as if that was all there was to it. Except the instant Winter's phone started to ring his attention snapped over. For a moment the guard looked like he would not answer but instead pulled the phone out. He stopped to see Ivan's number on the caller ID.

"Hello," he greeted, ready to hand the phone over but hesitating.

"I'd like to talk to Ivan," Gilbert said, tone tense and Winter frowned. Natalia startled slightly, standing close enough to Winter to hear Gilbert's voice faintly.  She looked from Winter to Ivan and back, eyes wide.

Winter paused for a moment before he held out the phone to Ivan. Ivan tensed, hand shaking when he reached forward and he loathed the fact his voice wavered. "Hello?"

There was a brief moment of silence before Gilbert let out a long breath, the sound going right into Ivan's ear. "I want to talk."

"To talk?" Ivan asked, voice still dangerously close to breaking and hating that others were listening. "What have we to talk about?"

"Everything, Ivan," Gilbert said. "Please. Let us talk."

Yekaterina watched Ivan for a long moment before crossing to the door and taking Natalia's hand on her way out of the room to pull her along behind her. "I don't want to talk to you," Ivan said, watching them leave but only feeling worse. "You're with your brother, aren't you?"

"Yes," Gilbert said. "Please, I want to see you. At least to return the phone."

"I don't much remember you ever asking me, or saying please," Ivan said, staring at the ceiling. "Why are you now? When you have everything you want."

"Because it's not," Gilbert said. "An hour. At the border. Please." The line went dead and Ivan pulled his hand back, staring at Winter's phone.

Natalia had extricated herself from Yekaterina and returned, tapping softly on the doorframe, "Brother?"

"Yes?" he asked, not looking up.

"What did he say?"

"Please a lot," Ivan said. "A meeting, in an hour."

She stayed where she was in the doorway, studying him, "You're going to go?"

"I need my phone back," he said.

"Are you taking just Winter with you?"

"Would you kill him?" Ivan asked, truly curious.

"I told him I'd skin him alive to give him time to think over what he did to you, if he took you for granted," she answered bluntly.  "So it depends on what he plans to say and do."

Ivan blinked once at her. "Oh." He looked down again. "You can come so long as you promise not to hurt him on sight. I want to hear... what he has to say."

Natalia nodded, tucking a lock of her pale hair behind her ear where it had come loose from her headband, "I promise."

"Then," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "I suppose we ought to prepare."

o-o-o

Vash looked around the location where Gilbert and Ivan were meeting, frowning slightly as he glanced at Gilbert, "There are a lot of blind corners here, and horrible lines of sight."

Gilbert shrugged and Ludwig just frowned behind him. "Yeah?" Gilbert said. "Well it works for both our advantage, doesn't it?"

"Sure, as long as we're positioned right. And as long as you don't end up disappearing into one of the numerous blind spots here," Vash retorted, considering where would be the best vantage point.

"I'll try not to," Gilbert assured, arms crossed over his chest and shifting from foot to foot, feeling antsy.

"Where do you want me?" Vash asked, addressing both Ludwig and Gilbert, though his attention was predominantly on the elder of the two brothers.

"The higher the better," Gilbert said, tilting his head back at the rooftops. "That way you might be seen less, and see more."

Vash looked up and pointed toward the roof of a building to their left, "That's probably going to give me the best line of sight there."

For a moment Gilbert considered it before nodding. "Yeah, I think so."

"Be careful, I'd rather not have to pull a trigger today," Vash said, looking Gilbert in the eye.

"Honestly?" he said, swallowing. "I'd really rather you didn't too."

Vash nodded once, "Good luck."  He glanced at Ludwig and inclined his head very slightly before slipping away to find a route up to the rooftop.

"Are you—" Ludwig started to ask.

"Please don't ask me again," Gilbert said, looking back. "I can't very well run away now, can I?"

"No, you can't," Ivan said from the other side of the alley.

Gilbert looked at him for a moment and back to Ludwig. "Car. Now."

"But—" Ludwig started and nodded curtly to Ivan. "Braginski."

"Beilschmidt," Ivan returned in a sing song voice and Ludwig obviously tensed before he turned and walked away.

"Don't you trust me with your brother?" Ivan asked as Gilbert turned back around to stare at him, shoulders tense and arms crossed over his chest.

"Right now I'd rather just talk to you," Gilbert said, having showered and ironed the suit before they left.

Vash reached his vantage point and slung the gun from his shoulder, taking position and scoping out the other rooftops, stilling when he spotted Natalia on the one opposite him.  She offered him a sharp smile and a wave before returning her attention to her own gun, positioning it so it would take very little adjustment for her to hit Vash, and then pivot it to hit the car Ludwig had returned to, rather than Gilbert, should anything go wrong.

"You said you wanted to speak to me," Ivan said, noticing the fact he was still in the suit and only feeling more confused.

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded and then fell silent, trying to figure out where to start.

For a moment Ivan watched him, shoulders tense and expression blank before he finally shook his head and smiled, causing Gilbert to shiver. "You left. What more have we to talk about?"

"Everything," Gilbert said, taking a step forward. "First of all, I didn't leave you."

"It sure looks like it," Ivan said, eyes far away and Gilbert moved until he was suddenly right in front of him.

"I left the house! I'm not going to be your prisoner for the rest of my life! I have my brother, and people I care about and missed, and for the love of fuck fresh air is nice to have too. I left the prison, not you. So if I was just a trophy then yes, I left and I'm not coming back. But—didn't you ever hear the song about how if you love someone, set them free?"

"No," Ivan said, almost taking a step back and his mouth twisting.

Gilbert paused a beat. "Well, it's a stupid song anyway. But the idea is if you love someone you let them go and _if they come back_ it's meant to be and if not well, whatever. It wasn't meant to be or something."

"But I never let you go," Ivan said and Gilbert took an abrupt step back, because he could still remember Ivan breaking his ribs and coming back to the house with blood on his sleeves.

Swallowing, he gave a curt nod. "Alright, that's true." He paused another moment. "Ludwig agreed to an alliance, if you wanted it."

Ivan froze, his eyes wide and for a long moment they stood watching each other. "What?"

"If you wanted it," Gilbert said. "You said you wanted allies, you said you wanted me. Well, I can't just live in your big house like a chained animal. I can't. But I love you and if our Houses were allied maybe we'd never have to fight each other and can make—can make this work—" he trailed off at the look Ivan was giving him. "Or—"

"Say that again," Ivan said quietly.

"Say what?" Gilbert started, shifting his feet back and swallowing as Ivan kept watching him. "The alliance?" Ivan kept staring. "That I love you?"

Ivan moved forward and Gilbert almost ran before Ivan grabbed his arms and dragged him forward. Before Gilbert could protest or yell Ivan slammed their mouths together, entire body bent into the kiss.

Drawing back from where he'd been watching the scene unfold through his rifle scope, Vash looked across to where Natalia was watching him, taken aback by her stance.  The girl had removed her hands from her gun, apparently assuming that she wouldn't need to shoot anyone, and she looked down into the alley, her body relaxed, and an inscrutable expression on her face from what Vash could make out.

Natalia removed her gun from its tripod, setting the rifle on the roof next to her as she collapsed the tripod and sat up a bit more, pulling the gun to rest easily in her hands.  If the German guard across from her decided that something was going wrong, she could still take him out easily enough, but Ivan and Gilbert seemed to be communicating as much as they ever did.

"We should talk," Gilbert said when he could finally breathe. "With Ludwig and with whoever but we should talk," he trailed off when Ivan kissed him again, the heat of his mouth distracting. "Ivan—" he started and yelped when he felt a hand slide under the suit jacket. "We are in an alleyway!"

"Yes," Ivan agreed, biting the side of his neck.

Gilbert's protest briefly derailed. "No, wait, there are people waiting—and watching for that matter—and I'm sure Winter is around that corner there—"

Ivan nodded and hummed but continued down Gilbert's neck until he was pushed away again, Gilbert holding a hand up in front of his face.

"Not now," he said, pupils blown wide. "Later. Okay? Later."

Vash slid his phone out of his inner pocket and dialed Ludwig's number to let him know that everything was going fine, and Gilbert was doing fine, though it might be another couple of minutes. Natalia watched Vash through slightly narrowed eyes, as he slung his gun over his shoulder, still keeping an eye out for anything that might go wrong.

"We—tomorrow," Gilbert said, still holding Ivan back. "Tomorrow we should set up a meeting for the alliance."

"Why not today?" Ivan asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Because," Gilbert said and paused, wondering at how honest he felt like feeling. "I don't think Ludwig's slept in twenty-four hours." When Ivan gave him an odd look, Gilbert huffed. "Don't start that again."

Natalia finally caught Vash's attention across the gap and held her gun loosely and then slung it over her shoulder, motioning downward.  He paused and then nodded, rising and heading for the door to the lower levels of the building.  Once he started moving, the girl rose and retreated to the fire escape she had used for her own access, appearing at Winter's side a few minutes later.

Winter glanced down at her and shook his head slightly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Gilbert said, one hand reaching up to touch Ivan's cheeks. "Okay? Tomorrow."

"In the morning," Ivan added and Gilbert nodded. "Tomorrow then."

"In the morning, tomorrow," Gilbert said. "We'll see each other then, okay?"

Ivan nodded, kissing Gilbert's hand before turning to walk back toward Winter and Natalia. Gilbert watched him go before returning to the car, staggering into the front seat.

"Did that go well?" Ludwig asked, turning to watch him and Gilbert nodded.

Vash slid into the backseat of the car moments later, his lips twitching as he glanced at Gilbert, "Did you set another meeting time?"

He nodded. "Tomorrow. Same time."

"His sister was on the roof opposite," Vash said, watching the back of Gilbert's head.

"Natalia?" Gilbert asked, shivering once as Ludwig pulled the car away quickly. "That both surprises me and doesn't."

"She was watching me, not you," Vash said.  "Knew who to go after if anything went sideways."

"Alright, that's oddly reassuring," Gilbert said, clearly remembering her earlier threats.

Vash snorted, leaning back in the seat, "I don't know how reassuring I find it."

"Considering her very inventive threats to kill me if I fucked this up, I am totally reassured she aiming for you," Gilbert said. "Besides I told you all nothing was going to go wrong." Ludwig shook his head, trying to focus on the road.

"Pardon us for not entirely believing that about the fact you were meeting someone who's kept you locked up in his house for months," Vash replied, shaking his head.

"He just works a bit differently is all," Gilbert said after a beat and Ludwig looked disturbed.

"Where are we meeting?" he asked instead of commenting on how concerned he felt about the relationship.

"That I was going to leave for you to work out," Gilbert said. "You both have to be relatively comfortable with it after all." Ludwig nodded, already filing away ideas.

o-o-o

Sadiq woke up to find someone else in his bed and frowned at the form for a long minute. He thought the curl of brown hair he could vaguely make out looked like Roderich but they both appeared to be dressed and he would have thought he'd have remembered getting the other into bed. Deciding his own mind offered no answers, he shook what he hoped was Roderich's shoulder.

Groaning softly at that, Roderich lifted his head from the pillow, fumbling at the nightstand for his glasses as he looked toward Sadiq, "Yes?"

"When did you get here?" Sadiq asked, glad to confirm it was Roderich when he turned over.

"Three o’clock this morning," Roderich answered, still a bit bleary as he finally got his glasses on.

"Ah," Sadiq said. "Did I insist you looked exhausted and need to sleep?"

"You tried to give me coffee and then dragged me up here when you realized I hadn't yet gotten any sleep," he answered, a slight smile curling his lips.

"Right," Sadiq nodded. "Do you need more sleep then?"

"I could probably stand a bit more," he admitted after a moment.

"Sleep then," Sadiq said, kissing his temple and realizing he had no mask on and wincing.

Roderich pulled his glasses off again, relaxing back into the pillows again and murmuring softly, "Thank you."

Sadiq nodded, moving back and sliding out of the bed, dressing quickly to go downstairs and let Roderich sleep. Stefan, the young man who had opened the door to Roderich the night before, was in the middle of making breakfast and trying to talk his younger brother, Timur, into the fact that it was more than edible and he really ought to eat it.  He glanced up as Sadiq appeared and his eyes darted to Heracles, "Maybe he can explain the honey."

Heracles grinned as Sadiq frowned. "There was a cup of honey left on the counter last night."

"What?" Sadiq managed.

Stefan picked up Sadiq's mask from where he had set it so he could cook, holding it out to the Head of the House, "There was a cup on the counter with honey but no coffee, I'm assuming that was what was meant to be in with the honey."

Sadiq took the mask quickly and sighed. "He did say something about me trying to give him coffee. I guess that's what it meant."

Heracles laughed, petting a cat who had climbed on the table and ignoring Sadiq's tragic look. "Not that I can say much about cups of honey, but I have to say that was smooth."

"I'm smoother than you'll ever be," Sadiq muttered.

"He's still upstairs?" Stefan asked, sliding a plate holding an omelet with feta cheese and a variety of vegetables to Timur who wrinkled his nose and poked at it with a fork.  Stefan looked at him for a long moment, "It's not poison, you watched me make it."

"Omelets are supposed to be yellow, not green," the eight-year-old protested.

"Eat the vegetables," Sadiq said, distractedly, remembering this conversation with Heracles many times. "Yes, he's still upstairs."

Timur offered the Head of the House a scowl, "But—"

"Eat them and I'll see about something you like better for lunch," Stefan bargained before turning back to Sadiq.  "Why did he show up here at that hour?"

Sadiq considered before he remembered. "Something about the Russians. I seem to recall him saying something."

"You never did work in the morning," Heracles said, shaking his head.

"I'm not sure three am really counts as a morning that anyone would work in," Stefan offered.

"You were up," Timur replied.

The older brother looked at him before turning back to the stove and starting on another omelet, "And you should have been asleep instead of aware of that."

"Someone always has to be awake," Sadiq said, fumbling for a cup of coffee and dropping honey into it. "That does not mean it should have been you," he added, arching a brow down at Timur.

The boy shrugged, "I couldn't sleep."

Stefan turned around at that, looking at his younger brother, "Why?"

Timur shook his head, not willing to say that he'd had another nightmare like he hadn't had in a while, "Just couldn't."

Sadiq watched him for a moment before looking back at Stefan. "Say, you have any more omelets coming?"

Stefan nearly swore, turning and sliding the omelet out of the frying pan onto a plate just before it burned.  He slid the plate over to Sadiq and set another one on to cook, "What time do you think he'll be up?  Should I make an extra and keep it warm?"

"Several more hours," Sadiq said. "Probably be up in time for lunch."

Stefan nodded slightly, serving Heracles the next omelet as he started on his own, leaning against the counter, "Do you think the news he had about the Russians is good or bad?"

"Hopefully tentative," Sadiq said. "Has there been any news from the network?"

"Gilbert left the Russian House," Heracles said and Sadiq dropped the coffee cup.

" _What_?" he hissed.

Stefan looked at Heracles, "When?"

"The middle of the night," Timur said, earning a glance from his brother.  He shrugged, still poking at his omelet, "I was out of bed cause I couldn't sleep, remember?"

"And eavesdropping on incoming information from the network?" Stefan didn't look impressed.

"It was that or follow you around."

"Batten down our hatches," Sadiq said and Heracles rose easily.

Stefan shut off the stove, putting the pan in the sink and turning at a sound in the doorway.  Roderich stepped in still looking a bit rumpled, but he had managed to smooth down his hair and with his jacket, tie, and shoes on he looked more put together than he could have.  Gupta stepped in behind the German intelligence officer, stealing Stefan's omelet and sitting himself down quietly next to Timur.

"I thought you wanted to keep sleeping," Sadiq said.

Roderich held up his phone, "I forgot to shut this off before deciding that. Or at the very least I forgot to mute it."

"Sorry," Sadiq said, automatically.

"Oh don't apologize, it's more sleep than I've gotten in a single night in weeks," Roderich said.  "Vash texted me.  The meeting with Ivan went well."

"So we're not looking at a wrathful Ivan about to burn down the whole city?" Sadiq asked, one hand hovering over his mask as if to put it back on but stopping. The only people to usually see him without it were the other members of his house and occasionally lovers.

Blinking slightly as he processed Sadiq's lack of mask, Roderich nodded, "Something like that.  He and Ludwig will have an official meet tomorrow, but today laid the groundwork for it.  And Gilbert is not only back, but returned from meeting Ivan unscathed."

"How in the hell did he manage that?" Sadiq asked and Heracles reappeared at the door.

Roderich's gaze darted toward Timur before returning to Sadiq, "I would imagine it had something to do with the not incorrect analogy of Persephone I applied to him."  Stefan dropped the cup he was holding with a clatter and quickly scooped its pieces up, glad he had yet to fill it with anything.

"That, that's not incorrect?" Sadiq asked. "That's the most alarming thing anyone has said to me all morning."

"Try hearing it when he shows up unexpectedly at two in the morning," Roderich drawled.

"I have to admit that I'd rather not," Sadiq said.

Roderich shook his head, "He climbed out of Ivan's window to get home."  He blinked as a cup of coffee appeared at his elbow, Stefan setting a second one down for Sadiq before retreating again.

"And their meeting went... well?" Sadiq asked in disbelief.

"Vash would have told me otherwise," Roderich said, picking up the cup of coffee.  "So, yes, apparently it did through some miracle."

Sadiq shook his head. "And that's why you came here at three in the morning?" he asked and Heracles slid back into the kitchen as the crisis seemed to have passed.

Roderich nodded, sipping at the coffee, "I hadn't realized how late it was and then I got turned around on my way here."

"You may have noticed he doesn't function very well in the morning," Heracles said.

"Shut up, brat," Sadiq returned.

That earned a faint smile from Roderich, "I had noticed that."

Stefan set a plate with breakfast down for Roderich and turned back to finally finish making his own, again, "He was more functional than usual last night, actually."

"Because he was vertical and could use words?" Heracles asked and Sadiq just shoved omelet into his mouth instead of scowling more at his heir.

Stefan grinned, "Yeah, something like that. And apparently started to offer coffee." Arching an eyebrow at that, Roderich kept his mouth shut.

"You're all brats," Sadiq muttered.

"I admit the cup of honey was a valiant attempt," Heracles said, tone still mild but obviously teasing.

"Honey's good," Timur said, finally pushing his empty plate away.

"But not easy to swallow without being in or on something," Stefan replied.  "Dishes in the sink, Timur."  The boy grimaced, but hopped down to put his plate where it belonged.

"I would drink a cup of honey," Sadiq muttered.

"Yes, but not everyone is you," Stefan pointed out.

"There are conditions under which a cup of honey is just the thing," Roderich said, setting the coffee cup down to start eating.

Sadiq looked up, and grinned at him. "And this is why I like you so much. Unlike some ingrates I could name."

Roderich's lips curled into a smile, "Well, I'm glad of that."

Stefan glanced at Gupta, "I thought you were exaggerating."

"I don't exaggerate," the guard answered with a smirk, glancing toward Sadiq and Roderich.

"He really doesn't," Heracles added, propping his chin up in one palm.

"About what now?" Sadiq said, looking from Gupta to Stefan.

"No, but you do," Stefan said, addressing Heracles.  "At least when it comes to this."

Timur glanced between his brother and Heracles before looking to Sadiq and pointing at Roderich, "About you and him."

"I didn't exaggerate about Arthur fucking Kirkland either you know," Heracles muttered.

"Alright, that's true," Stefan admitted, leaning against the counter.

"What about me and him?" Sadiq asked, carefully ignoring Heracles and Stefan.

Timur moved over to where Sadiq was, tilting his head at Roderich for a minute and then back, "You're happy around him."  Roderich blinked twice at that, feeling color rise to his cheeks between Timur's forthright comments and the conversation between Stefan and Heracles.

Sadiq blinked, unsure how to respond to that. "You adopted a bunch of orphans," Heracles said from the table. "It's your fault we all gossip about your love life." He leaned down, scooping up a black and white cat into his lap from where she had been weaving around his legs.

"It's almost a requirement to gossip about your guardian's love life, after all," Stefan said, turning on the water to do the dishes in order to give himself an excuse to stay in the kitchen.

Sadiq rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Next time I'll just adopt cats. Then I can't hear their gossip."

"You're allergic," Heracles said sweetly, the black and white cat in his lap purring.

"Dogs then," Roderich replied without missing a beat.

Stefan bit his lip to hide a smile at that as he glanced over his shoulder, "You're stuck with us whether there's a next time or not."

"I think I'm allergic to dogs too," Sadiq said. "Maybe gerbils or something."

"Or goldfish," Roderich offered.  "No fur in the equation at all, in that case."

"Rabbits," Timur suggested.

Stefan spoke over his shoulder, "You're not supposed to give him suggestions, brat."

Timur scowled at him and crossed the kitchen to pull himself up on the counter next to the sink, "I’ll give suggestions if I want.  I'd like rabbits, but Heracles' cats would eat them."

"Not necessarily," Heracles said. "Some cats get along great with rabbits. Or that's why you build them sturdy hutches." Sadiq covered his face with one hand, already anticipating Timur's beseeching look.

"I'm not keeping the rabbits in cages," Timur protested.  "I looked, they can be housetrained," he added, looking toward Sadiq.

"They'd have to get along with _all_ of Heracles' cats then," Sadiq said, still not looking up.

"If I drown the ones that don't get along with them, can I have the rabbits?" Timur asked, earning him a long look from Stefan.

"You are an extremely bloodthirsty child.  And no, you can't drown the cats."

"I wasn't asking you," Timur answered, still focused on Sadiq.

"You can't drown the cats," Heracles added and Sadiq rubbed his temples.

"No killing of former inhabitants to make way for new ones," he said. "Separate areas and occasional hutch use may be the only compromise."

Timur's eyes lit up at that compromise, "So I can get rabbits?"

"This is going to require plural, isn't it?" Sadiq sighed.

"They're social creatures," Heracles said, eyes laughing as the cat on his lap head-butted his chin.

"Please?" Timur asked, hopping down from the counter and moving over to Sadiq again. Roderich hid a smile behind his coffee cup, watching the exchange.

Stefan spoke before Sadiq could, "What about proving you can take care of one first, kid?"

"You heard Heracles, they're social creatures and they'll get lonely," Timur answered.

Sadiq pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I thought I had to worry about gang war. I swear to god if I end up feeding them, or breaking up cat and rabbit fights they're being donated to science, got that?"

Timur nodded, quickly, "Okay.  I'll take care of them, and you won't have to break up the fights."

Roderich's brows arched and he looked over at Sadiq, "Is this a normal morning?"

"The rabbits are a new addition," Gupta offered helpfully.

"Otherwise yes," he said and turned back to Timur. "Science. To science. Have you done all the research yet?"

Timur shook his head, "But I've done most of it, and can do more today and tomorrow."

"I want color-coded print-outs," he said, holding a finger out.

Timur paused at that and then nodded, offering his hand to shake on it, "Agreed."

Sadiq hummed as he shook the offered hand. "Fine then. Rabbits."

Timur smiled and left the kitchen to see about researching rabbits and their care.  Stefan shook his head, "This will be exciting."

He was greeted by a groan from Sadiq. "Exciting. God help me, I almost hope for another gang war."

Roderich laughed quietly at that, "Surely it’s not so bad as that."

"We'll have to make sure he doesn't make good on the threats to the cats," Gupta said, picking his plate up and handing it to Stefan. Heracles scowled, holding the cat closer.

"We'll keep track," Sadiq said. "No cat drowning. If I was ever going to go down that route it would have been long ago." He sneezed suddenly and shook his head, muttering something.

Roderich paused for a long moment, fingers curled around his coffee cup as he glanced at where Sadiq's mask rested on the table and he spoke quietly, "You know, there are extensive rumors about why you choose to wear that mask.  Seeing you without it dismisses more than half of them."

"The horribly scarred or ungodly ugly ones?" Sadiq asked with an amused smile.

The other man returned the expression, "Yes, those.  Though I had figured they were incorrect to begin with."

"That's kind of you," Sadiq said, finishing the coffee and setting the cup near the sink.

Setting his plate and cup down next to the sink, Roderich shrugged, "Unintentionally.  Why do you wear it?"

"I don't rightly know some days," Sadiq said, washing the dishes. "I think it started as—I don't really know, a dare or a joke. After I became Head I went to a meet with it, I think it was with the English or German House and they had been making noise about how barbaric the other Houses could be, how superstitious. So I wore the mask to the meeting. After that it just became a way to stand out, differentiate myself."

"I wish I could say the comment of barbarism sounded more like the English than German House, but then I recall who our previous Head was," Roderich said.  He watched Sadiq for a moment, "It certainly does make a statement."

Sadiq laughed, shaking his head. "Everyone in this city needs their thing, you know? Ivan's got his fear and his casino, the Nordics have their history, the English their rules and poison. I got a mysterious aura."

"Gilbert termed you 'shady'," Roderich's lips quirked upward.  "I may have to point out to him that he has no grounds to talk anymore."

"So he and Ivan are really a thing?" Sadiq asked, leaning against the counter.

Roderich paused and then nodded, "I've never seen Gilbert like this about someone.  And since he walked away unscathed this morning, and Ludwig has a meet with Ivan tomorrow it would appear that Ivan feels similarly."

"Please give me the insider scoop the day they break up," Sadiq said. "I think I’ll flee the continent."

"I'll call you from the airport on my own way out," he promised.  "Apparently the original pact which Otho broke was offered in the hopes of getting to know Gilbert.  This has been building for a while on one side at least."

Sadiq shook his head. "That makes this scarier, actually. How about you pick me up on your way there."

"Agreed," Roderich nodded without hesitation and then paused.  "Though considering my abilities in that regard perhaps calling you and having you pick me up would be the wiser course."

"See, we'll make it there alright."

"You'd have to pack up the cats and the rabbits too," Heracles remarked from the table and Sadiq sighed, eyes going to the ceiling.

"He'd leave that to us," Stefan answered easily from where he was doing a crossword at the table, Gupta leaning over to indicate that he'd gotten the last answer wrong.

"That's true," Heracles nodded. "We could meet you there."

"That's the best plan in the end," Stefan agreed.  "We'd probably beat him there, really, since it would just involve catching the animals and going straight to the airfield, rather than detouring."

Sadiq looked over at Roderich, as if to ask him if he had ever understood what he was getting himself in to. Roderich offered him a wry smile and the slightest shake of his head before shrugging.  He had not realized exactly what being with Sadiq entailed, but he had no intention of backing out of it.

"You pests can finish cleaning the kitchen," Sadiq said finally, grabbing Roderich's arm and tugging him with him. "Don't try to blow anything up again."

"That was one time," Heracles muttered.

"And we were twelve," Stefan added as Sadiq and Roderich disappeared through the doorway.

"Science does not belong in the kitchen," was all Sadiq said on the way out the door.

Roderich couldn't help but laugh softly at that, glancing at Sadiq, "You've quite the family you've built here."

"Yeah, god help me," Sadiq huffed.

"Surely they're not as bad as that," he said, still sounding amused.

"Depends on the day," he said. "Today they're being downright civil."

"Drowning cats is civil?" Roderich asked, his eyebrow arching.

"Timur and Heracles don't get along," Sadiq shrugged. "So. Yes?"

"It's still more welcoming than it could be."

"I'm assuming you’re not talking about the drowning cats bit anymore."

Roderich chuckled, "No.  I meant the whole of it."

Sadiq chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Well, I would say you're crazy for thinking that, but I remember Otho. Can't imagine growing up with him."

"It was...an experience.  Especially as a friend of Gilbert's."

"I think half the city was aware they didn't get along," Sadiq said, watching him and stepping into a random side room where they weren't quite likely to be interrupted.

Roderich shook his head at that, "It was not a well-kept secret.  Though that was rather an understatement of it."

"Why?" Sadiq asked, leaning back in one of the larger armchairs.

Roderich sat down in another of the chairs, leaning his head back, "Because when we found out that Otho was dead and Gilbert was missing the only argument Ludwig and I could offer each other was that if Gilbert had killed Otho out of self-defense he would never have disappeared."

Whistling, Sadiq shook his head. "That's a pretty intense reaction to have to your grandson."

"He didn't trust Gilbert's loyalty and expected problems when he died regarding the line of succession," Roderich said, pulling his glasses off to rub his eyes.  "It would be laughable if not for the danger it put Gilbert in."

Sadiq considered. "Because he was the elder, Otho really thought he would try to take the succession away from the heir he designated?"

Roderich nodded, "He didn't understand that Gilbert's loyalty was to Ludwig and he would never do anything to undermine his brother."

"Loyalty is a funny thing," Sadiq said, shaking his head.

"It can be.  Other times it's very straightforward."

"No," Sadiq shook his head. "It never really is. It's not something born into us after all, but something we always choose for some reason or other. It may line up to what's expected of us, but I don't think it's ever straightforward."

Roderich tipped his head to one side as he considered that, "Well, it's not something inherent, no.  But it's also not random, who gets our loyalty.  Usually it's something direct in its actions."

"Well yeah, it's not the loyalty lottery," Sadiq said. "But he could have been loyal to Otho, himself, or Ludwig. Or to something else entirely. I guess it's not straightforward in that it did not have to be Ludwig."

"It didn't have to be, but once Ludwig appeared on the scene, there really wasn't another option," Roderich said.  "I'm not sure I can actually explain how it's true, but it is."

Sadiq nodded, accepting that information though he could not quite wrap his mind around it. "So. Considering how difficult it was for you to find here, how much advantage should I take while you're here?"

Roderich's lips curved into a bit of a smile, "How much advantage would you like to take while I'm here?"

"Well that depends," Sadiq said, voice dropping down again, warm.

"On?" Roderich asked, his tone gently curious as he watched Sadiq.

"Well," he said, leaning back. "On exactly what you want I suppose."

Roderich leaned forward at that, "That's rather open-ended.  What are you willing for?"

He hesitated before shrugging. "I meant it to be open-ended," he said, posture held carefully.

Roderich paused for a long moment at that, "I've met your family, and you've spent the morning without your mask.  I can't help but wonder how far you need to trust me before we move this to a physical relationship."

Sadiq slowly arched a brow up. "You'd have to excuse me, as you didn't sleep with Arthur Kirkland last. Though I can't really say it's about that anymore."

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, "That was not how I meant that.  At least I don't think it was.  I suppose I just..." He broke off and raised his eyes to meet Sadiq's again, "What is it about then?"

"Why we haven't slept together has nothing to do with him anymore."

"That's," Roderich drew a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say what he meant. "I've told you before I can wait, I can do without that.  It's the casual touches.  I hadn't, I hadn't realized how rare they are.  Even discounting the fact that I slept in your bed last night, it feels as though we've had more contact in the last twenty-four hours than we've had in weeks."

"You mean like this?" Sadiq asked, taking his hand and turning it around so his fingers were curled around Roderich's palm.

Roderich's lips quirked upward very slightly at that, his fingers curling around Sadiq's, "Yes, like that.  I'm not asking to sleep with you.  We've not even kissed, for all we've been seeing one another, so it seems rather a drastic step to tumble into bed."

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "And you're certain that's not where you want to go?"

"I wouldn't object if it ended up there, but it's not what I want at the moment," Roderich answered, simply.

Sadiq nodded, kissing the back of Roderich's hand. "I would be quite distressed if that was not what we were working toward, though."

"It's what we're working toward, but we've still got some ways to go," Roderich replied, his fingers curling tighter around Sadiq's at the kiss.

"Alright," he nodded. "What's the chance of you ever finding your way back here again?"

"If we allow for the extra time it takes me even with a GPS, there's a probability I could find my way back."

"Either way," Sadiq said, pulling Roderich up to his feet. "I should give you a tour of the house."

Keeping his hand twined with Sadiq's, Roderich offered him a smile, "I would like that.

Sadiq grinned, the expression oddly open on his face without the mask as he used his grip on Roderich's hand to pull him closer, leaning down to kiss his temple. "Well come along then," He laughed, tugging Roderich with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this chapter we meet Sadiq's band of orphans. We're not sure how he ended up with all of them, but they're there nonetheless. New characters here too, Stefan is Cyprus and Timur is Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC).


	30. Set the House on Fire

Kiku paused in front of the octopus tank, his hands crossed behind his back and watching the people around him in the reflection.  He turned slightly, offering Alfred a smile as the other approached, "Hello."

"Hey," Alfred said, keeping his hands in his back pockets and watching the octopus for a moment. "Sortta scary, aren't they?"

"Intelligent though," Kiku answered, turning back to watch the animals.

"That's why they're scary," Alfred laugh, shaking his head and standing at Kiku's shoulder, watching the faces behind them in the glass. "Like can you imagine them if they were huge and that smart? The oceans would never be safe."

"Supposedly, if they had longer lives they would build their own civilizations.  Or something like that," Kiku said, glancing back at him briefly.

"That's not very funny," Alfred said, poking him in the side before returning his hand to his pocket.

"I'm not joking," he replied before shifting the topic.  "I have missed you."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something and stopped, tilting his chin down. "Yeah, I know. Me too."

"What is it?" Kiku asked, watching Alfred's reflection.

"What's what?" he asked, hand itching to reach out and touch. "It's just been a while and with everything going on," he shook his head, looking around the most deserted room.

Kiku paused before turning to face Alfred, "Have things changed much since the last time we saw each other for you?"

He shrugged. "Not much," he said and stopped. "Though, apparently Matthew ran into Leon. And Liam's hiding stuff from us and fuck knows how that's going to end."

Kiku blinked rapidly at him, "Leon and Matthew encountered each other?"

Alfred hummed and nodded. "Sent Matthew into a panic. Apparently he hadn't realized Leon would have grown up."

"I do not usually associate the term 'panic' with your brother."

"Usually because he doesn't," Alfred admitted.

"But Leon managed to put him in a panic?"  Kiku's brow rose at that.

Alfred sighed, realizing he had said too much with his word choice. "More or less. I don't know, it was weird. I mean, we don't talk about Leon much, because like, I was a stupid teenager when he left, you know? And Arthur always got that expression like he was going to set the house on fire if you mentioned his name."

"And now your brother has encountered him," Kiku paused.  "Arthur did not...." he stopped himself from saying anything further as he considered the occurrences around the time of Leon's arrival at the Asian House.

"Didn't what?" Alfred looked down.

"I was going to say he did not seem to put up much of a fight when Leon came to the Asian House, but he did poison Yao."

Alfred sighed. "On super non-specific orders, yeah."

"And then he came to power," Kiku shook his head.  "Perhaps he put up more of a fight than I had realized."

"Yeah," Alfred said. "Just, you know, House solidarity and stuff. He couldn't do anything to stop it but he made sure it couldn't happen again... when it was too late of course."

Kiku hummed softly at that, nodding, "I am not sure what Yao would have done if it had not turned out the way it did.  He was, well, pretty adamant."

"Yeah," Alfred said, scratching the back of his neck. "I remember." He paused. "If you never realized how much it fucked him up, you think Leon ever did? He was, what, ten?"

Kiku considered that and then shook his head, "I do not think he would have, no."

"Damn," Alfred sighed. "How... how's he been anyway?"

"Rebellious, angry, prone to harmless pranks when he is in the right mood," Kiku sighed.  "Far from happy."

Alfred sighed. "It was better not to think of it, you know. But the pranks he used to pull... he was that annoying kid brother who got away with everything you never could."

Looking away for a moment, Kiku considered his net question, "Why did it damage Arthur so much?  Everyone is of the opinion he only reacts in such a way for blood."

Alfred considered. "When he was a kid," he said finally. "Leon snuck into Arthur's room, while he was sleeping with the old Head of the House, and set off fireworks. Not only was the room locked, not only did the firecrackers go off over the Head's fucking head but Leon survived." Alfred chewed his bottom lip. "Don't think Arthur didn't think of him as family. As I said, he was the kid brother who got away with what I would never."

"He would have been heir, wouldn't he?" Kiku asked quietly after another moment, his stance wary as he was pretty certain he should not have asked the question.

"Yeah," Alfred said without really thinking about it too long and he laughed. "Arthur got stuck with us. Like, I know somewhere in that twisted thing he calls a heart he loves us, me, Matthew, and Liam. But he chose Leon, you know? Like," he pointed to a tank, where several fish were swimming. "This one shall be mine. And I will raise him and guide him and he shall be mine."

Kiku let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head, "Well, I suppose it is good to know he has some sort of a heart."

"Way down there," Alfred said, fingers itching to reach out and touch. "Very twisty. Lots of weird twists and turns."

Glancing around the room, Kiku brushed a hand against Alfred's arm, the touch light, "I appreciate that you are more direct than that."

"Mine's just really small," Alfred said. "So you know, it's pretty open."

"It is not that small," Kiku replied, tugging lightly on Alfred's arm before releasing him to move on to the next room.

"You sure about that?" Alfred asked, laughing and following him at several paces.

"I grow more sure all the time," Kiku said, offering him a faint smile over his shoulder.

"Not to say I'm not glad you know I have a heart," Alfred said, brushing their hands together in the shadows before looking at the larger window where they stood, opening up to a large enclosure with fish and several manta-rays. "But maybe it only has room for like, you and Matthew or something. That's pretty small you know."

"You never know," Kiku said.  "You might surprise yourself.  On the other hand, mine is of comparable size I suppose."  He turned his gaze to watching the rays, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"I'd rather it be small and for you than incomprehensible or dark," Alfred said and was glad it was dark when he colored to realize what he just said.

Kiku startled, looking over at him in surprise, "I..." recognizing that they once again had the room to themselves through some miracle, but semi-aware that there were probably cameras, Kiku tossed caution to the wind and stretched up to kiss Alfred.

Startling, Alfred leaned down for a brief moment before jerking back. "Jesus, Kiku, there's," he looked around quickly, wishing he hadn't said the other's name and finding the telltale red blink of a camera in the corner. Even so, his hand had curled around Kiku's hip and he didn't drop it.

Color had risen to the smaller man's cheeks and his voice was unsteady, "I, I know.  But I, you, damn it I hate this."

"I did say we should run away," Alfred sulked for a moment before looking around. "Come on," he said, tugging Kiku with him.

"And we still cannot do that," Kiku said, glancing over his shoulder as he followed Alfred.

"I know," Alfred sighed. "But I wish, you know?"

"I know," Kiku murmured, keeping pace with Alfred's longer legs through practice. Alfred looked around, finally finding a nook and dragging Kiku into the shadowy corner with him. Kiku glanced up, recognizing that they were out of even the camera's line of sight and smiling faintly, "The security in this place has a few holes in it."

"Well, I think they're just worried about the fish," Alfred said. "And you know, gangsters shooting each other." He pressed his mouth up against Kiku's ear, speaking lower. "Not this."

A shiver ran down Kiku's spine at Alfred's breath on his ear and he pressed closer to the blond, "Damn our Houses.  I don't, I don’t even care anymore."

"Yeah you do," Alfred said, bracing his back on the wall so he could slide down slightly, one hand on Kiku’s hip and the other coming up to slide through his hair, ruffling some of the dark strands. "Yeah you do."

Kiku let his eyes close, two lines appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned, "I do not want to.  I hate it."

"Where would you rather go?" Alfred asked, kissing his temple again.

"Anywhere.  Somewhere that no one knows us.  That they do not care who we are, or where we come from."

"Anywhere? That's like most of the globe," Alfred laughed and kissed him finally, tilting his head back with one hand. Kiku's arms came up to wrap around Alfred's neck, his fingers tangling in the hair there as he pulled himself flush against the other, molding to Alfred's form.

"How's your—?" Alfred pulled back enough to ask.

"Healed," Kiku answered, pausing for a moment. "Or close enough to count."

"Good," Alfred said, dragging him closer. Going willingly, Kiku pulled Alfred down for another kiss, feeling a slight twinge in his arm but ignoring it.

Alfred groaned into the kiss, sinking down slightly more so that Kiku's neck was not strained as badly. Humming into the kiss, Kiku curled his fingers into Alfred's hair, parting his lips slightly. Taking that as an invitation, Alfred dived deeper into the kiss, still carefully holding Kiku up against him. "Do you think anyone's coming?"

"I would guess that we have another moment, but I also would not count on that." Alfred growled, tilting his head back down, kissing his nose before finding his mouth. Kiku drew back after a moment, his hands coming to rest against Alfred's chest, "We should, we should stop..."

"Don't want to," Alfred muttered, nuzzling against Kiku.

Humming again, Kiku tilted his head back slightly, "Someone could come."

Growling, Alfred finally drew back. "Alright," he muttered. "Fine." He still didn't drop his hands though.

Kiku brushed a hand over Alfred's shoulder, glancing away, "I am sorry.  It is just, we have been so careful until recently and I feel as though we are pushing our luck."

"Yeah," Alfred sighed, letting his head thud against the wall. "Matthew found out and everything. I mean he's creepy persistent but..." he shook his head, finally straightening. "I'm just tired of waiting. Which is hilarious," he added, laughing at himself. "Considering how far we still have to go."

Kiku's lips barely twitched up into a wry smile, "We should, we should try to meet somewhere less....frequented."

"Like churches?" Alfred teased.

"We have been meeting in those a lot," Kiku replied.  "But they work."

"Yeah," Alfred said, taking a deep breath before he finally slid out of the alcove. "Do you remember the times when our Houses at least pretended to talk to each other? Like with official meetings and stuff?"

Kiku nodded once, keeping his hands at his sides as he followed Alfred, "It was so much easier then."

"It stopped when the Russians and Germans and Romans all started fucking around," Alfred sighed. "We're not really even at war with each other yet..."

" _Yet_ ," Kiku reiterated quietly.  "Arthur or Yao could take it as an excuse any time, though."

"Trying not to think about that," Alfred admitted.

"We may, we may not be able to ignore it much longer."

"I'm not—" Alfred started and turned back around from where he had finally stepped away. "I'm not saying it's not going to happen, or that we'll be able to ignore it but right now I want to focus on _now_ and not kill myself worrying about later. We have this, now, and," he grabbed Kiku's hand and held on tighter than he should have. "It's not much as it is."

Kiku instinctively started to draw his hand back, darting a glance around the room, "But it is ours. As little as it is."

"Yeah, so let's just focus on that," Alfred said and sighed before dropping Kiku's hand again.

o-o-o

Francis spotted Antonio getting out of the car as he approached from the other direction. "I'm so glad news travels quickly," he remarked and Antonio looked over in surprise and laughed.

"Good to see you again too," he said, closing the car door and waiting for the twins who had both insisted on coming as well.

"Heard you died," Francis remarked and Antonio shrugged.

"I got better."

Lovino tensed at the exchange, but a soft sound from Feliciano kept him quiet about it, "You're here for Gilbert too, then."

"Of course," Francis inclined his head as Antonio started up the pathway to the German House.

"And you three wonder why people ask," Lovino murmured, shaking his head.

Feliciano offered his twin a glance, "He's been missing for months."

"And only got home last night," Lovino returned.  "Normal people call."

"Well," Francis shrugged and followed Antonio. "We've never really been phone people anyway. Now don't sulk."

"You have no grounds to tell me what to do and what not to do," Lovino said, sharply, eyes narrowing.

"Fratello...." Feliciano murmured. Francis just laughed as they reached the door, Antonio already knocking.

Vash opened the door, one hand on his gun as he looked the four over and sighed, "There is no way in hell I'm going to be able to turn you lot away, is there?"

"No," Antonio smiled. "Is Gilbert in?"

He stepped aside to let them in, "Yes. But the last I checked he and Ludwig were both asleep." 

Lili appeared at the top of the stairs in time to hear that, "I'll go wake him."  She saw Feliciano and smiled faintly, "And Ludwig too."

"It's the middle of the afternoon," Antonio protested, though he was never one to talk about afternoon naps.

Lili had disappeared down the hall and Vash just offered them a raised eyebrow, "And Gilbert's been gone for months."

"Did he not sleep in all that time?" Antonio asked.

"He arrived in the middle of the night, and they stayed up talking and he went right to the meet," Vash answered, glancing toward the stairs. Lovino crossed his arms over his chest, obviously tense in the face of being in another House.

Antonio whistled and Francis only shook his head. "Of course he did," Francis said. "Because who else would face down Ivan on no sleep?"

"Speaking of," Antonio said, watching Vash. "I only heard very vague things about a truce so Ivan didn't kill anyone. How did that meeting go?"

Vash's lips twitched slightly and he shrugged, "Ludwig has an actual negotiation with Ivan tomorrow."

Both Francis and Antonio stared. "What?" Antonio managed.

Vash offered them a humorless smile, taking pleasure in the expressions on their faces and the looks he was getting from the twins, "Did I stutter?"

"But it's Ivan!" Francis protested. "He never negotiates! I mean, alright, so he has an alliance with the Asian House—" he paused, frowning. "Yao is not going to like this."

"We've got a stronger position than Yao does here," Vash replied, being intentionally cryptic.

"Like breaking the last neutrality pact?" Francis asked.

The guard smiled, the expression unnerving, "I'll let Gilbert explain when he comes downstairs."

"That's not—" Antonio started when there was suddenly a sound and Gilbert came clattering down the stairs, skipping some on the way down.

Vash cleared his expression and stepped to one side, glancing at Gilbert as Lili appeared at the top of the stairs.  Lovino's eyebrows rose at the sight of Gilbert, "He's looking surprisingly whole."

"Thanks for that," Gilbert said as Francis scooped him up into a tight hug that Antonio gladly joined in on. "I missed you two, too."

"Going drinking alone with Francis just wasn't the same," Antonio whined.

"Oi, it wasn't even alone, you brought your boytoy with you."

"He's not a boytoy," Antonio intercut before Lovino could start yelling and Gilbert only laughed.

Lovino offered Francis a glare, "I will shoot you and damn the consequences.  Just so I'm completely clear."

"Please don't shoot anyone here," Ludwig said, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he came down the stairs and some of his hair escaping where it was usually slicked back.

"Oh I'd wait until we were out of your House," Lovino agreed, glancing toward Ludwig and then at Feliciano who had lit up at the sight of the blond.

"I'll hide behind Antonio," Francis warned and Gilbert could only keep laughing, sandwiched between the two of them.

Lovino glanced at the trio and shook his head, "And this is why people think you're sleeping together."

"Did he ask you too?" Francis asked, looking at Antonio who nodded. "Damn. I laughed myself silly when Arthur asked. I think he wanted to throw me through a window."

Lovino offered Francis a scowl, "He's not the only one."

"Well," Gilbert allowed, once he finally stopped laughing. "No one's asked me about you two."

"You have someone who would?" Lovino asked, eyebrows rising slightly.

"Lovi," Feliciano murmured, shaking his head when his brother glanced at him.

"It's alright, Gilbert, I think everyone's accepted you have the sexual urges of a fish," Francis said and Ludwig choked.

Gilbert arched a brow up and turned his head to look at Francis. "Ivan asked me if I was sleeping with Ludwig."

Lovino let out a bark of slightly horrified laughter at that, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle it.  Blinking rapidly, Feliciano stared at Gilbert, "He really asked you that?"

Humming, Gilbert nodded and Ludwig just looked more scandalized than he had even the night before. "In his defense, I had just done really stupid shit to steal his phone."

"Speaking," Francis said, pushing at his shoulder. "Mon Cheri, what is this we hear of negotiations? Surely you would want nothing more to do with that man."

Gilbert blinked and opened his mouth before closing it and trying again. "Oh. So there are people in the city _not_ comparing me to Persephone. Awesome."

"Don't blame me for that," Ludwig muttered. "Roderich is the one who came up with it."

"Persephone?" Lovino blinked, glancing at his twin.

Feliciano paused at that, "As in the Greek goddess kidnapped by Hades who became his queen?"

"Something like that," Gilbert agreed and Antonio had to bury his head in Gilbert's shoulder not to laugh hysterically.

"But, but," Francis protested. "You  have no sex drive! I flirted with you for a month!"

"Oh," Gilbert blinked. "Is _that_ what you were doing? You asshole, _I_ nearly tossed you through a window," and Antonio finally gave up and howled with laughter.

Feliciano burst out laughing, looking at his brother, "You actually thought _any_ of them were sleeping together?"

"There was a logical progression to that assumption," Lovino muttered, crossing his arms almost defensively.

"I'm sure there was," Ludwig sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"At least Antonio had an excuse to rebuff me!" Francis sighed dramatically, flopping forward so Gilbert had to catch him. "He was still claiming to be Catholic."

"Oi," Antonio said, finally getting control of his laughter. "Just because I'm a bad one..."

"A horrible one," Feliciano offered helpfully.

"Hey now," Antonio protested.

"Wait," Gilbert said, holding a hand up and looking between Antonio and Lovino. "Are you _finally_ sleeping together?"

Lovino's cheeks colored slightly at the question, but he nodded once, "For a while."

"Oh my god," Gilbert threw up his hands. "Huzzah. Halle-fucking-lujah."

"How many other people were this invested in your sex life?" Lovino asked, shooting a glance at Antonio.

"Just us," Francis said and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Because we heard him get morose when drunk way too many times. At least he was consistent, though," he added and Antonio blushed. "Like, it wasn't new issues or anything, just the same speech."

Lovino's lips twitched at that, and he shrugged, "Well, that's something."

"It would have been better if you two actually communicated," Feliciano said.

"Oh don't even start," Lovino replied.

Francis sniggered, and Gilbert only shook his head. "So many years," he groaned. "So many years..."

"Six," Feliciano offered helpfully as he moved over to Ludwig, stretching up to straighten the locks of his hair that were still out of place.

"That's rather specific," Gilbert said and looked over, watching the way Ludwig smiled down at Feliciano. "Oh my fucking god."

"It was a very long six years of unresolved sexual tension pouring off of them both," Feliciano said without looking away from Ludwig as he smoothed the last piece of hair into place.  "There we go."

"Oh my god," Gilbert repeated. "They—have they always been like this?"

"Worse," Vash answered from where he'd been standing to one side, watching amusedly.

"How did my awesome brother turn into a sap?" Gilbert groaned and Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"Oh please. Your lover broke your ribs twice."

"You know, I do think that means you win," Antonio said, looking at Gilbert again. "At most messed up."

"Lovino tried to stab you when he figured out he was in love with you," Feliciano reminded.

"Yeah, but he didn't kidnap you," Francis said. "Wait, did you say _twice_?"

"Re-broke," Gilbert shrugged. "I think we're mostly past that stage."

"Mostly?" Antonio asked, giving Feliciano a long look.

Feliciano blinked rapidly at Gilbert, "You just have the trump card, don't you?"

"Because I'm that awesome?" Gilbert offered. "It's not a trump card I much wanted."

Considering Gilbert with his head tilted on one side, Feliciano spoke, "But you do care about him.  Now, I mean."

"Yeah," Gilbert said and Francis just shook his head.

Feliciano smiled at that, "And he likes you too?"

"Helen of Troy," Ludwig said. "Yes, he rather likes him too."

"I really hate you," Gilbert said.

"I think it's a good thing," Feliciano said, glancing up at Ludwig.

"Not when it means he kidnaps him," Ludwig muttered. "Or tried to create an alliance just because he wanted to—"

"Hush," Gilbert waved his hand.

Feliciano's eyebrows rose as he filled in the blanks on that, looking back to Gilbert, "Really?"

"Really," Gilbert ran a hand over his face as Antonio howled in laughter again. "Oh shut up, Catholic-boy."

Feliciano looked back to Ludwig, "And you're meeting Ivan tomorrow?"

"Yes," Ludwig nodded. "He agreed to an alliance."

"Yao's going to be thrilled," Lovino said under his breath.

Antonio shook his head. "You make a mess wherever you go don't you?"

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded and laughed.

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig, "Does this mean you'll actually get some sleep now?"

He laughed, the sound low and warm compared to Gilbert's laugh. "Yes, potentially, if Gilbert doesn't keep me up all night again."

Turning back to Gilbert, Feliciano offered him a wide-eyed look, "You wouldn't do that again, would you?"

"Probably not," Gilbert shrugged. "But I'm not good at those promises."

Francis rolled his eyes. "I understand Ivan," he said and Gilbert hit him.

"Oh come on, you poof, we have a lot to catch up on," he said, grabbing both Antonio and Francis by the arm. "Leave the two lovebirds here alone." Lovino paused for a long moment, offering Feliciano a long look before he trailed after Antonio and the other two.

"Your brother still doesn't trust me, does he?" Ludwig asked, looking down.

"It took him twenty-two years to trust Antonio," Feliciano replied, frowning after Lovino.  "I expect he won't ever actually trust you, but he's not saying anything which is a good sign."

"I guess I'll take what I can," Ludwig said, pushing back a strand of Feliciano's hair. "How are you?"

"Good," he answered, leaning into the touch.  "Glad for you.  Between projects, but Antonio's on his feet again so stress levels are easing again."

Ludwig stifled another laugh. "I almost wish I could be there for when Antonio mentions casually dying to Gilbert."

"I'd rather not be there for seeing Lovino try not to react again," Feliciano replied, looking toward the direction the others had gone.

Eyes dropping for a moment, Ludwig offered him a hesitant smile. "Gilbert will react strongly enough, I think."

Feliciano's lips turned up into a smile, "Which would be something to see, I'm sure.  At least Antonio and Lovino have worked through several problems recently.  It helps when they have so much time to talk."

"Well," Ludwig started. "I hope they figure their issues out. Would you like breakfast, or something?" he asked.

"I," Feliciano bit his lower lip, still smiling, "Lunch?  I certainly will never say no to food."

"Well, strictly speaking it's still breakfast for me," Ludwig said, hand going to Feliciano's waist.

Feliciano leaned briefly against Ludwig, tilting his head back to look up at the other man, "Brunch then.  Food, either way."

Ludwig tried not to smile down at his lover sappily but was quite certain he did not manage it. "Come along then."

Feliciano paused for a moment before stretching up and brushing his lips, feather light, against Ludwig's cheek, "Lead on."

o-o-o

Kiku tapped on the doorframe of Leon’s bedroom, "I was thinking I wanted to go take some photos—some of the ones from the last outing did not turn out as I hoped.  Care to join me?"

Leon blinked up at him from where he was reading a glossy looking magazine. "It's an hour before dinner," he protested.

"Well, then we had better make it a quick trip," Kiku responded, his conversation with Alfred still cycling through his mind.

Blinking, Leon finally closed the magazine and left it on his bed. "Alright," he said, as Kiku was not well known for pressing. "Let me find my shoes."

Kiku nodded slightly, turning his attention to the settings on his camera while the other got his shoes on.  Once that was dealt with, he turned on his heel and headed out of the house. Trailing after him, with his hands in his pockets, Leon waited until they were a block away before speaking. "What is it?"

"You sent Matthew into a panic apparently."

"You saw Alfred then," Leon said, not a question and frowned. "Wait, what?"

"I am certain you heard me," Kiku replied, snapping a couple of pictures.  "He did not give me details, just said that Matthew was panicking."

"About _what_?" Leon muttered to himself.

Kiku shrugged, doing a fantastic job of keeping his face expressionless as he considered the facade of the building they were in front of, "Something about you having grown up."

"Which is what happens when you are no longer ten—" Leon started and his eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I am implying nothing.  I am saying exactly what he told me.  We did not talk much about Matthew."

Leon scowled over at him, hands deep in his pockets. "What did you want to talk about then?"

"We did not talk much about Matthew, but we talked quite a bit about Arthur.  There was a mention of an incident with firecrackers?" Kiku's eyebrow arched slightly and he glanced at Leon.

That startled a laugh out of Leon, who so rarely even smiled. "The time I set them off in his bedroom you mean? There were others but that seemed to be the crowning moment."

Kiku's lips twitched upward slightly, "Yes, that time."

Leon shook his head, shrugging. "It was a good time."

"You seem to have come through it remarkably whole."

Leon shrugged, looking sideways. "Do you think I wouldn't have?"

"I think, the way Alfred talked, the others wouldn't have," Kiku said simply.

"He's exaggerating then," Leon said, shaking his head and protesting too quickly.

Kiku shook his head slightly, taking a few pictures before lowering the camera, "I am not sure he is.  Did you know Arthur poisoned Yao after you came here?"

"What?" Leon's head snapped over.

"Yao was poisoned within two weeks of you coming to our House.  Arthur didn't make it a secret of the fact that it had been him. Alfred says there were very vague, non-specific orders, but Arthur has never struck me as the type to follow orders well," Kiku murmured, raising his camera again.

"He followed them when he wanted to," Leon said, frowning over at Kiku and actively fighting against acknowledging the implications of what was being said.

"He also came rapidly to power after that.  Perhaps my memory is faulty, but he never tried to do that before.  Nor did he take responsibility for having killed a Head of the House prior to that," Kiku said, ignoring Leon's look.

"You're sounding pretty confident he killed them before," Leon said.

"It is generally assumed around the city that if he did not do it himself he had someone else kill Jacob Fitzwilliam.  There was no doubt it was poison, and that it was slipped in the man's daily coffee," Kiku said, glancing at Leon.  "But by denying involvement, Arthur was able to keep the position he wanted as poisoner."

Leon stared at him. "Who in their right minds would trust the poisoner after someone is killed with poison?" he asked, almost more to himself. "So he poisoned Yao, so he became Head. What did you drag me out here to actually say?"

"Jacqueline Abbot apparently," Kiku answered the first question, his attention on the camera again.  "I brought you out here to ask if you really believe you would not have been heir to that House if Yao had not interfered."

Leon stopped dead and stared at him. "What?"

Kiku finally turned to look at him, "If Arthur had decided to come to power had you not been taken away, do you honestly think that _Alfred_ would be his heir?"

For a long moment, Leon only stared at him. "Why would you tell me this now?" he asked finally. "I was ten when I left, of course I wasn't thinking about—" He stopped, because that was partly a lie. "What possible reason do you have for telling me these things now?"

"Because they will not mention it if you encounter either Matthew or Alfred, but you have a right to know that it is on their minds," Kiku replied.

Leon looked at him before shaking his head and turning abruptly away. "You're really implying that if I stayed, you think I would have run that House some day?"

"I have very little doubt of it, and Alfred seemed sure of it," Kiku answered, finally looking away again.

"It doesn't matter," Leon said, folding his arms over his chest and squeezing them tight. "Even if that was true, I'm here now and Alfred is heir."

Kiku opened his mouth to disagree, but closed it again and nodded, "You are right, of course."

Leon caught his hesitation. "What does it matter then?" he asked.

"I am not sure yet." Kiku said after a moment, "But somehow it does."

"When you figure that out, I'm sure you'll tell me," Leon said, bitter before he caught himself.

Kiku's eyes flickered to him, "If you had the freedom to choose between the Houses, where would you go?"

Leon abruptly stopped again. "No," he said. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because in what could be a few months or a few years that may not be as impossible a question as you think it is," Kiku answered, his expression never changing.

Leon's eyes narrowed. "Because you and Alfred?"

"Because if I manage to outlive Yao, I intend to seek peace talks with whoever is Head of the English House at that time," Kiku said.

"Yao will outlive you just for spite," Leon said. "Besides, he'll disown you for that."

"If I manage to outlive him he will not know which makes it difficult to disown me," Kiku replied simply.

"And let me guess, Alfred will try and do the same," Leon said, not really asking it as a question.

"Probably," Kiku answered after a moment.

"You're both deluded fools," Leon said, turning and starting to walk off before he paused and turned back. "But I hope it works out for you."

Kiku tilted his chin back slightly at that, but bit off his first response, "Perhaps we are. But there is always a chance."

"A chance?" Leon asked. "You mean besides that of a snowball in hell?"

"It is not much more than that, but it is there," Kiku murmured.

Leon shook his head and continued down the walkway, hands shoved deep into his pockets and fury on his face still. Kiku remained silent, slipping away as soon as they reached the house to get cleaned up for dinner, trying to ignore the part of his mind telling him he had made a critical error.

Sheng paused when he saw Leon and changed direction to fall into step with the other, "Hey.  You look ready for murder."

"Considering it," Leon said, slamming into his room and tearing the shirt he wore over his head, tossing it toward the magazine he had been reading earlier.

Sheng followed him, closing the door behind them and leaning against it, "Can I ask who the victim is?  Just for minimum safe distance, you know?

"We'll start with Kiku," Leon snarled, more emotion than he usually bothered to show around anyone as it was only Sheng in the room with a closed door.

That earned a long blink, "So no minimum safe distance then."

"The English House can be next," Leon said after a beat, rifling through shirts and taking several calming breaths.

"Can I ask what happened?"

"It," he frowned. "It's more people's secrets than my own."

"And somehow it has to do with both Kiku and the English House?"

"Not necessarily together," Leon said after a beat.

Sheng offered him a bit of a grin at that, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "So how much trouble is this going to put us in?

Leon paused, a clean and fancier shirt in hand as he chewed his lip. "A lot," he admitted after a beat.

Sheng took one look at the shirt and his expression turned serious, "Oh god, you're dressing nicely for dinner.  What's happening?"

"You know Yao prefers when we dress up," Leon muttered.

"Which is why you very rarely do," Sheng replied.

Leon's hands tensed on the shirt. "It's funny, isn't it," he said after a beat. "I actually do enjoy dressing up and yet..."

"And yet because he makes you it gives you a rebellion that doesn't require firecrackers in his soup," Sheng finished.

"Well maybe if I'm dressed up he won't be so angry about the firecrackers," Leon said, fingers twitching again.

Sheng couldn't help but grin again at that, "You really shouldn't put them in his soup."

"But he makes the best faces," Leon said, sighing and pulling the shirt on, buttoning it up to the collar.

"Yes, but if you dress up and then do it, he'll already be on his guard," Sheng pointed out.

"Damn it," Leon muttered, itching to set something alight.

"Could always set some off after dinner.  I know it's not as satisfying, but...."

Leon laughed but it did not sound amused. "I thought you weren't supposed to encourage me."

"I'm not.  And technically I’m not encouraging you.  Just, suggesting a different way in which to expend the need for things that bang."

"Nope," Leon shook his head cheerfully. "That's still encouragement."

Sheng grinned, "Well, alright, it is, but I admit to enjoying the firecrackers too."

"Bad influence," Leon shook his head, smoothing a hand down his chest. He opened his mouth as if to ask something and frowned instead.

"Yeah?" Sheng prompted off of his look, still leaning against the door.

"Do you remember when I came here?" Leon asked, because Sheng was several years older.

"Hard to forget," Sheng answered.  "Things were a mess for a while after that."

"Why did he do it?" Leon asked.

"I don't know entirely.  I mean," he paused, "you're related by blood, not just by House ties, so that certainly was part of it."

"Seems like an awful lot of trouble," Leon frowned. "Wonder if he thinks it was worth it now."

"Considering everything that's happened since then and how much he's not been willing to let you go again?"  Sheng shrugged, "I would guess he does, but I never know with him."

Leon sighed again. "Dinner then?"

Sheng nodded, opening the door finally, "Dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so very sorry about the length of time between updates on this one. We swear it hasn't been abandoned! These muses are very loud and very active, we've just been a bit overwhelmed irl between finishing our Graduate program, and entering jobs, and preparing for a big trip (in VS's case).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!
> 
> Sheng = Macau


	31. Hell, I Might Like Hearing the Excuses for Once

Carmen tied her hair up, straightening the living room of the apartment on the border between the Roman and Latin territories while waiting.  She had spent hours trying to figure out how to tell Alfonso and was no closer to an answer than she had been that morning.  She drew a deep breath, opening the door when she heard a knock and offering him a smile, "It is good to see you."

He pulled his hat off, shaking rain out of the brim. "You too," he said, though he was carefully considering her. "You didn't sound good this morning, though."

She closed the door behind him, wetting her lips, "I, I've had better weeks."

"Better weeks?" he found himself asking, sitting down.

Running a hand through her curls she hesitated before moving to join him, "My cycle was late this month.  As in, didn't show up at all."

He stopped from where he had been pulling his scarf off, sitting on the couch. "Your cycle's pretty regular," he said after his mouth caught up with his mind.

She nodded, "It always has been.  I went and purchased a couple of pregnancy tests.  They came back positive."

Alfonso's hands were still spread out, scarf half in his hands and half around his neck. "Oh."

Carmen twisted her hands in her lap for a moment, drawing a steadying breath, "Eva found out."

Finally dropping the scarf, Alfonso took a shuddery breath before forcing his chin back to meet her eyes. "And?"

"She said that if she gets killed because someone else is acting as her guard in the upcoming months she's haunting us both," Carmen replied with a hint of a smile.

Something relaxed in the line of Alfonso's shoulders and his hands were no longer clenched tightly in his lap. "Oh," he managed, a relieved exhale. "Are you sure?"

"That I want to keep it?" Carmen confirmed, watching him.

He nodded, the motion slight.

"I've had time to think.  And it's going to be a lot of trouble, but yes I'm sure."

He relaxed further, almost sprawling over the couch now before he held out a hand. "Hey. Why all the way over there?"

She smiled, taking his hand and sliding over to curl against him, pausing for a moment before she asked the question that had been on her mind, "What's your brother likely to do?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "God, I need at least five minutes to actually enjoy this news, alright?"

She managed a weak laugh at that, leaning her head against his chest, "Alright. Five minutes then."

He paused, hands inching around until he could spread his fingers along her stomach. "So you're really...?"

Her hands moved to cover his as she nodded, "Really."

He laughed, a deep sound as he pulled her tighter against his chest. "Well, fuck. You'd think we'd been better at avoiding that."

She shook her head, laughing as well, "I thought we had been."

"Apparently not," Alfonso said, burying his face in her hair.

"This is going to cause problems, but I don't care right now," she murmured, fingers tracing over his knuckles.

"We'll have plenty of time to worry about those," he murmured. "Basking, remember? The happy thoughts?"

"Right, yes, basking."

He laughed, and if it had any hysteria in it that was his own business. "Do you know anything about it yet? Or just that it's coming?"

"Just that it's coming.  I only found out yesterday," Carmen answered, leaning further into his embrace.

"Well," he said, fingers rubbing circles on her stomach. "I'm still glad you told me."

"Did you think I wouldn't have?"

"It was a possibly I'd considered before," he admitted finally. "That maybe—and you just hadn't told me. But I'd hoped it wasn't the case. Just, on bad days sometimes."

Carmen stilled at that before turning around to face him, her hand coming up to cup his chin, "I wouldn't keep this from you."

"Yeah," he smiled wryly. "I get that now. But you know, work. It happens sometimes, girls who won't tell their boyfriends about the baby—they just want it gone."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek lightly, "Any other doubts in that head of yours that I should be aware of?"

"Not currently," he admitted with a small smile.

"Good," she returned the smile before actually kissing him.

He curled his fingers around her cheeks, cradling her face and focusing on the kiss and not worries about what might happen.

Leaning in so she was practically on top of him, Carmen tangled her fingers in his hair, all of her attention on the kiss as she carefully avoided any thoughts of the minutes, days, and months to come.

o-o-o

Eventually Leon suspected someone would notice how often he left the territory alone. The instant that happened a door would slam in his face because his position was already fragile enough. Which meant nothing when rage felt like it was buzzing under his skin and all he could think about was the way Matthew looked at him through shelves and Kiku's quiet assertions.

Besides, he was good at sneaking around.

But when he found himself standing on the outskirts of the English territory he frowned. His run-ins with Matthew had been luck more or less, and it had been years since he tried to predict Arthur's habits. For a moment he stood on a street corner, drumming his fingers on the opposite elbow before turning down another street with determination in his step.

That choice of street was either lucky or unlucky, depending on how he chose to view it as Arthur, having slipped Cameron's watch for once, was making his way along it.  The Head of the English House froze when he saw Leon, his green eyes wide as he looked the youth over from a distance, "Leon?  What on this green earth are you doing here?"

Leon froze, flicking his hair out of his eyes in irritation. "I expected that to take longer," he admitted and frowned. "You don't look that different," he said and it sounded accusatory.

"That implies that you expected it to happen at all," Arthur said, arching an eyebrow and not addressing how much the boy before him had changed.

"I was looking for you," Leon said, fingers curling before he forced them to relax.

Arthur stared at him for a long moment before blinking twice and frowning, "Why?  I mean, no, no that is what I mean."

Now Leon was faced with Arthur he had no idea what to say. "People have been making assumptions," he said finally. "And—You poisoned Yao?" he blurted, not where he had meant to go.

Arthur paused at that and then nodded, "Yes.  Though the dosage was too weak."

"Why?" Leon demanded. "Why would you do that?"

Unlike when Matthew had asked him, Arthur paused and considered his answer.  There was a need for honesty here and it was something he was unaccustomed to, "Because it was too late for me to do anything else."

"Anything else?" Leon asked, slinking a step forward and still looking wary with his eyes narrowed.

"Because I thought that if I moved quickly enough in deposing two Heads and taking the place of one of them I might have some chance at reversing the agreement they had reached," Arthur replied, instinctively scanning the street.

"Was it about me?" Leon asked, not quite able to make that a statement.

Arthur drew a deep breath, hating to have this conversation on a public street, "Yes."

Leon's chin twitched back and he swallowed hard. "Somehow I hadn't ever believed that."

Shifting his weight so it rested more on his good leg, Arthur spoke quietly, "Is it really a surprise?"

"Yes," he said. "For me," he amended almost instantly. "Apparently not to _anyone else_."

"It was never meant to be a secret," he paused and considered that.  "Well, not before Yao got his way at least."

"I was a child," Leon pointed out. "All I understood was being given up," and bitterness seeped into his voice more than he intended.

Arthur let his eyes slip closed briefly at that.  Opening them again he considered what to say, but couldn't do more than shake his head slightly, "I never gave you up.  It wasn't my choice.  I know how empty those words are, but I _never_ would do that.  Not voluntarily."

Leon rubbed his hands over his eyes, hands slipping out from his long sleeves. "Damnit," he muttered. "I would have liked to hear that _then_ not now. However preposterous that is."

Lips twisting into a bitter smile, Arthur nodded, "I know."

"For some reason people keep trying to convince me I would have been your heir," Leon said, tone trying to be idle and anger seeping back in instead.

"I'm rather curious who these people who think they know my mind so well are," Arthur murmured, not entirely sure how to address the issue of heirship.

"That's not my secret," Leon said instead, glancing away.

That garnered sharply arched eyebrows, but Arthur nodded and finally addressed the implicit question, "If I had come to power, there is a very strong possibility that you would have been my heir."

Leon swallowed hard. "Damn. Damn. I was really hoping they were just seeing things."

"I don't, I'm not sure what to tell you, Leon," Arthur admitted quietly after a moment.

"Then figure something out!" Leon snapped.

Arthur frowned at him, "Did you really come to the territory to ask me these questions?"

Leon paused for a beat and scowled. "Yes," he said, looking away.

Arthur drew a deep breath, running a hand over his hair, "Anything I say is going to sound like a defense for things I can't justify."

"You could just try apologizing," Leon said. "Hell, I might like hearing the excuses for once."

Arthur kept himself from responding instinctively, and perhaps petulantly, with a question of what good it would do apologizing for something he hadn't had control over and that he had tried to reverse, "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I didn't do more to prevent it, and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to change it after it happened."

"Damn," Leon said, hands shaking and he looked caught between running away and moving forward. "I had hoped that would help. But nothing really does and you actually made an effort—"

"There really isn't an apology that makes that sort of thing better."  Arthur murmured, "I wish there was.  But wishing doesn't change much."

"You're maudlin," Leon said and stepped forward.

Arthur's lips twitched up wryly, "I've been maudlin for quite a long time."

"Eventually that'll be hard on your liver," Leon said with a frown.

Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly at that, "I would say I've enough other bad habits that will affect my body more quickly than that."

The corner of Leon's mouth twitched. "You probably shouldn't do it then." He stopped and considered again. "It was pointed out that you once let me get away with things no one else did."

"I don't know how true that is.  I tried to be impartial, but that may not have actually held true."

"I snuck into your room when you were sleeping with the _Head of the House_?" Leon offered.

Arthur paused, trying to remember for a moment before he recalled the incident mentioned, "And lit off a string of firecrackers.  I honestly don't know what I would have done had it been anyone else, looking back.  But neither Matthew nor Alfred would have tried it either."

"It's funny," Leon said, not sounding amused at all. "To spend years thinking you meant nothing to someone only to have not one but two people inform you that you have been entirely wrong."

Visibly flinching at that, Arthur drew another deep breath, "I should have done more, both while you were with me, and in the immediate aftermath."

Leon scowled and he looked like he wanted to step forward and shove the older man. "And now?" he asked, though it was unfair.

Arthur fell very still at that question, looking Leon up and down before meeting his eyes steadily, "What on earth do you think I can do _now_ that I couldn't do _then_?"  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

"No idea," he said after a beat. "Sorry for interrupting your day."

"No, I," Arthur broke off, shaking his head.  "It wasn't an interruption.  Not of anything important."

Leon paused from where he had already turned around to retrace his steps. "It was still stupid."

"Reckless," Arthur agreed, calmly.

"Fuck," he said viciously and took a step away.

"Language," came the automatic response before Arthur caught it.

"No," Leon said, turning around and making a slashing motion through the air with one hand. "You do not get to—"

Arthur rocked back on his heels, "No, I know."

"An automatic reaction then?" Leon asked, brows twitching up as he gave Arthur a graceful out.

That garnered a faint twitch of Arthur's lips as he nodded very slightly, "An automatic reaction."

"Then I should go before I am missed," he said, reluctantly. "Any more than I already am at any rate."

Arthur paused, fighting back the urge to get the youth to stay, before he nodded, "Yes, you probably ought to."

"Is it pride or just natural innate inability?" Leon snapped.

"What do you want of me, Leon?" Arthur demanded.  "I can ask you to stay, but we both know that's not a possibility. Hell, I can try to make you stay, but again, what good would that do?"

"I don't—I don't know," he said. "Just—"

Arthur leaned on his cane, shaking his head, "I don't want to let you go.  Not again. If I could, I would take you home now.  But I can't.  Not at this moment.  There wouldn't be any negotiations as there were with the last Head of the House.  It would mean war.  Because Yao won't let you go, and I wouldn't give you up again.  And even knowing that, there's a large part of me that doesn't care what it would cost and just wants you back."

"Then why did you let me go?" he snapped. "Why would you—? Everyone keeps implying I should have been your heir and I thought you just couldn't be bothered enough to—"

"Because it happened before I could stop it!"  Arthur answered sharply, "I was kept uninformed as to what was happening until it had already transpired and I couldn't do a thing about it."

"Why am I only finding out about this now?" he said, a cosmic question directed at the world in general.

"Do you actually want an answer to that question?"

"No I—I honestly shouldn't have come," he said, scowling.

"I'm sorry, Leon," Arthur said after a moment.  "That it happened, that it wasn't reversed, and that it's taken so long for you to find out what I should have made clear to you years ago."

"That one actually sounds honest," Leon managed. "It just makes things harder."

Arthur drew a deep breath, rocking back on his heels and reminding himself of the multitude of reasons why it was a bad idea to offer Leon any of the assistance he wanted to, "I..."  He shook his head, falling silent again.

"What?" Leon asked, arms crossed over his chest and voice sharper than it had been before.

Arthur mentally cursed and bit the inside of his lower lip for a moment before responding, "I can't offer you what I wish to, but nor will I ever turn you away should you need something."

"That's a very broad promise."

"It's the most honest one I can give you," came the steady reply.

"The one time you decide to be honest," Leon threw his hands up. "And I'm only angry because—because _damnit_."

Arthur closed his eyes briefly, opening them and nodding very slightly, "I know."

Leon hesitated, wavering between leaving and staying and finally rocked forward on his feet and wrapped his arms around Arthur's chest. Arthur startled, freezing for a moment before his arms came up to wrap around Leon and he held him close, if a bit uncertainly. "I missed you," Leon said, more emotion than he usually felt wiling to show.

"And I've missed you.  So very much, Leon," Arthur breathed out, clearing his throat when his voice hit a more vulnerable timbre than he intended.

"Oh look, more real emotion," Leon laughed weakly into his shoulder.

Arthur huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh, "I have those on occasion."

"Who'd believe it?" Leon asked.

"Very few people, I expect."

Giving another watery laugh, Leon tried to pry his hands off Arthur's shoulder and gave up. "Aren't you supposed to walk around with bodyguards and shit?"

"I may have decided to be reckless, myself, today and ducked my primary guard," Arthur admitted into Leon's hair.

"Stupid," Leon muttered and realized with annoyance he had only wrapped his arms more tightly around Arthur's shoulders. "Don't underestimate how many people want to shoot you."

"It's a risk I take any time I step outside, guard or not," Arthur said, quietly.  "I'm careful.  Though today's perhaps an exception to that."  He cast an instinctive glance around the street before turning his attention back to the teen.

"You are going to get shot and I don't want to deal with it," Leon said, finally pulling himself back.

Arthur took a half-step back, hand tightening on the top of his cane as he slid the other into his pocket to keep from reaching out again, "I'm not going to get shot."  He paused as his knee twinged, "Not today, in any event."

"Old man, you've been shot," Leon rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

Arthur's lips quirked upward very slightly at the term of address, but the expression passed quickly, "And I came out of that alive."

"Sure, but you still got shot," Leon said, looking away. "I never did expect you to become Head, you know."

"I never did either."  Arthur admitted, "Looking back, it was probably a long time in coming, but I didn't expect it."

"It's more stressful to hear about," he said and wished he hadn't.

"I hadn't—" Arthur broke off, considering his words again, "I suppose I hadn't thought about it from that side."

"Yes, well," Leon shook his head. "Don't get shot, don't get poisoned, and—and we shouldn't talk again but—"

"But I miss you," Arthur replied softly, not using it as a counter to anything Leon said.  "Be careful, Leon.  I mean it."

"I at least am not bad at being careful," he said with a huff. "Unlike some people I could name."

Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly, "I do pretty well with being careful, so I hope that wasn't directed at me."

"Only partially," he admitted.

"Is this those same people whose secrets weren't yours to tell earlier?"  Arthur asked, considering the young man.

"Probably," he inclined his head. "Yes. Mostly."

"Don't stick your neck out too far for them," he cautioned.

Leon gave him an odd look. "Even if they really need all the help they can get?" he asked, not wanting to indicate how close they were to Arthur. "Even if I do, oddly, like them?"

Arthur weighed his answers to those questions very carefully before he spoke, "Only if you think they're worth the risk."

"I think," he paused. "It could be worth it."

Rubbing his right eyebrow, Arthur nodded after a moment, "Then just, just be as careful as you can.  _Especially_ if they aren't being."

"Yes, I do actually know how not to be stupid and die," Leon said.

"I don't actually doubt that," Arthur said.  "Even if I sound like I do."

Leon considered him for a long moment, finally swallowing and looking away. "Alright. You should be more careful though, on the street."

"I will be, I promise," Arthur replied, softly, his gaze darting up and down the street briefly.

"I need to go back before they miss me any more," Leon said, taking another step back.

Arthur nodded, looking away for a moment, "You should. It would be foolish to stay longer."

Opening his mouth like he might say something else, Leon nodded and stepped away just as someone else came out of a side alleyway directly in front of him. Arthur tensed, instinctively reaching for his weapon before he registered who it was emerging from the alley, "Nataraja?"  If there was a god, Arthur was beginning to think the deity hated him.

Nataraja froze, a bag of groceries in one hand as Leon slowly rose from the position he had automatically fallen into, crouching slightly to better fight or run. "What the fuck?" Nataraja managed after a beat. "What are you—no, what are _you_ ," he focused on Arthur. "Doing here?"

"It's English territory for another block in that direction," Arthur replied, nodding in the direction Nataraja had come from, "so I might ask you the same question."

"Yeah, but it's the edge and you never come here," Nataraja said, sounding offended. "I _checked_ before—"

Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly at that, "Before?"  He looked Nataraja over, focusing on the bag of groceries and where he had come from, "You live around here?"

"Well," Nataraja managed and sighed before looking at Leon again. "Okay, and you really shouldn't be here."

"You know you're lucky it's me, right?" Leon said, a brow arched. "I mean honestly, you keep appearing to forget that shoot to kill order."

"That _what_?"  Arthur's tone turned sharp and he looked between the two of them before focusing on Leon, hoping he would actually get an answer from the teen that he knew he would not receive from Nataraja.

"Oh, shut up," Nataraja scowled.

Leon glanced between them and frowned. "There's a history here I'm missing," he declared, standing in the space between the two older men.

Arthur turned his gaze back to Nataraja, green eyes narrowing, "You still haven't told me why you're living in English territory rather than the neutral zone.  And frankly, selecting the one territory in which an act of aggression on Yao's part would set off a war seems rather counterproductive to your talk of a neutral party keeping peace."

"Yes, well, the neutral zone only works if people don't expect you to live there," Leon said when Nataraja opened his mouth to respond. "Easier to send spies to and attack."

"Which is counterproductive to the entire concept," Nataraja said and Leon shrugged.

"It wasn't my idea."

Arthur nodded to Leon, "A valid point, which still doesn't explain the selection of my territory rather than, say, Braginsky's."

"I know it better," Nataraja said simply.

"You're on better terms with other Heads," Arthur said, ignoring the way something twisted inside him at the thought.

"Arthur, most of the city is on better terms with itself than with you," Nataraja said wryly. "It would take too long to case Russian territory enough to live there."

Leon looked between them, starting to understand more of the history.

Arthur offered Nataraja a thin smile in response, "You've had several years."

"Well, not technically since I got run out of the neutral territory," he said and Leon shrugged again.

"I need to go," he said, though he wanted to stay and see what other secrets he could gleam from the conversation. "Also, that still wasn't my fault, and you should also be more aware of your surroundings."

Nataraja snorted. "I'm perfectly aware."

"Whatever did you do to anger the Head of our illustrious Asian House so?" Arthur asked, gaze still on Nataraja to keep himself from trying to stop Leon leaving if the teen was doing so.

Before Nataraja could answer the door to the apartment complex they were in front of opened and Kasem came down the front steps, "Nataraja, there you are I was wondering when—" He broke off and his eyes widened as he recognized the other two people there, "Oh.  What happened to not getting involved in the mess that is this mess?"

Arthur half-turned to pin Kasem with a look before he turned back to Nataraja, "Here.  You literally live _here_.  Of fucking course."

"Hadn't we already implied that?" Nataraja asked. "I'm not involved with this mess either," he directed to Kasem. "They're the ones who were on the doorstep."

"Sorry," Leon shrugged.

"I thought the point of you having a place here was so they wouldn't be on the doorstep?"  Kasem asked, caught between coming further down the steps and retreating back into the building, "Kinda why I'm living with you, what with the lack of English members showing up right here and all."

"Are you having trouble with my House?"  Arthur asked, looking Kasem up and down.

"Yeah, some of your low levels cost me my apartment a month before he," he jerked his thumb toward Nataraja, "got back.  Weren't you aware that they were shaking down people living in the lower-rent districts?"

A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched at that, but he didn't respond, looking to Leon, trying not to let his tone gentle too obviously, "You should probably go before you're missed any more."

"Right," he said, and looked between them. "But honestly, Patel. Yao is out for your blood and he's really pissed about other things. He'd love to take it out of your hide."

Nataraja waggled his fingers. "Don't worry, I figured out he doesn't like me with the shoot on sight order. I'll be careful."

Leon made a dissatisfied sound and looked back at Arthur before taking off the way he had come. Arthur watched him go before turning back to Nataraja, "So you're living in English territory, in a location that you scouted enough to discover that I never come here."  He shook his head, "Of course you are."

"I said it was better than the other options," Nataraja snapped. "It was between here and the Asian territory and unlike here, they're actively trying to kill me."

"Yes, Yao has that tendency," Arthur replied testily, crossing his arms over his chest, cane held loosely in his left.  "How long has he had a shoot to kill order out about you?"

"Probably since I was thirteen?" Nataraja shrugged. "Fuck knows the official dates but it came from then."

Arthur's expression darkened, "There was a point in time where I should have known this."

"I left his territory for yours," Nataraja said, waving a hand. "That was never really going to be forgiven."

"There's a difference between 'not forgiven' and 'kill the little bastard'," Arthur snapped.

"Not with Yao Wang," Nataraja shrugged. "You should know that."

"When this was any of my business I didn't.  I've learned better since then."  His jaw set and he uncrossed his arms, drawing himself together and leaning back on his heels, "I should be on my way."

"Yes, most likely," Nataraja said, voice ice.

Arthur offered him a scathing look, "Try not to let the Asians shoot you on my territory, I would hate to have to declare a war over the body of the supposed peacekeeper."

Nataraja's laugh was bitter and mocking. "God, the horror. I'll avoid it."

Arthur's upper lip curled ever so slightly in a sneer but he shook his head and left.  Once he was out of sight, Kasem opened the door to the building, looking toward Nataraja, "You know, I thought I knew what love looked like and now I'm kinda grateful I've never experienced it."

For a beat Nataraja just stared at him, hand twitching like he was trying to figure out whether he should throw the milk can at Kasem, or the whole bag. "That is _not_ what love looks like," he snarled finally and shoved past him, dropping the grocery bag against his chest on the way past.

Kasem caught the bag, shaking his head and murmuring as he entered and closed the door, "Not a healthy one at least."

o-o-o

Arthur entered the English House in a high fury, the door bouncing off the wall before he shut it again and started for the stairs, ignoring Cameron's curse and call asking where the fucking hell he had been without a guard.  He entered his study, slamming the door shut and looking around the room, sorely tempted to retreat with a bottle of scotch, but still in enough control to know better.  He stalked over to his desk, yanking out a file that covered information on rents collected and one that concerned specifically the lower levels that were supposed to be in charge of the low-rent areas of his territory, flipping through them, trying to find discrepancies as he sought the name of the young man he knew worked with Nataraja.

After several minutes, a knock came at the door and Alfred strolled in, hands in his pockets. "What's up?" he asked, carefully irrelevant in tone.

"Out," Arthur snapped before he thought better of it. "No, wait.  This may be something you can deal with."

Alfred's brows twitched up and he nodded, carefully keeping his sarcastic responses to himself. "Alright, what am I dealing with?"

Arthur gestured to the papers in front of him, "There's been a string of evictions from some of our low-end apartments which makes no sense as the tenants have been consistent in their rent.  I've received reports that one of the low level thugs, or a couple of them, have been shaking down the tenants.  There's no record of an upswing in takes, and whether there was or not, this is untenable and needs to be rooted out.  I have the section of the territory most affected and the names of those who work most frequently there.  Do you think you can deal with this problem, Alfred?"

For a moment Alfred blinked before nodding. "Shake people down, save the day of the poor? Pretty sure I can handle that." He fidgeted though, realizing the weight of responsibility that was being shifted to him more and more and scuffed the toe of his boot on the floor.

Arthur looked up from where he was jotting down the list of names, "Is something the matter?"  He pulled out a file and included the contact information he had for the thugs and then sought any "last known" information for those who had been evicted, forming a separate list of them.

"Just thinking is all," Alfred said. "You know, actually being handed responsibility for once."

Arthur's mouth twisted at that and he looked back down at the list he was making, "It's long since time I started to have you do things for this position."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, mouth twisting. "It probably is. Just new is all."

Arthur straightened, sliding papers back in their respective folders before holding the two lists out to Alfred, "The white one is the information we have on the evictees and the yellow one is the low level members of the House who may be involved."

"I'll get on it," Alfred said with a nod and started to turn before stopping and taking a step forward instead. "Okay, actually, Francis is still out and apparently as heir I now automatically lose all rock paper scissors matches about who has to come and check on you. So what's up?"

"Nothing," Arthur replied.  "Beyond a discovery that I know far less about what goes on in this territory than I believed."  He turned and slid the files into their appropriate places in the cabinet before withdrawing a separate file for the area he now knew Nataraja was living in, sorting through until he found the right building.

"Yeah, how'd that come about anyway?" Alfred watching him, eyes behind his glasses indicating how little he believed Arthur.

"I encountered the person who tipped me off to the mess you're currently holding in your hands," Arthur replied, glancing up at Alfred and then back down, finally locating the right building and seeking his cross-reference for people who had moved into the building since he had come to power, trying to figure out when Nataraja had actually decided that settling in the English territory was preferable to more lethal options.

For a minute Alfred watched him in silence. "Who was it?"

"Kasem Jainkul," Arthur replied, turning over another page.

"Yeah? Wasn't he with that... what, Patel or something?" Alfred asked.

"Still is, to the best of my knowledge.  Some sort of apprentice in the art of attempting to keep the peace in a city that isn't made for it," Arthur said, frowning and flipping through a couple of more pages before backtracking again.

"So what are you looking for now?" Alfred found himself asking.

"Information on someone I thought I saw in the territory."  He changed the subject abruptly, not looking up, "I want you to meet with the heir of the Asian House.  It may be time to reopen our ceasefire with their House, considering the alliance between the Germans and Russians that is now in place."

Alfred blinked rapidly. "What?" he managed stupidly.

"I'm hoping that Yao will be more amenable to discussing terms, considering the new shift in alliances.  As long as you can refrain from calling the heir adorable or attempting to make him blush?"  Arthur looked up and arched an eyebrow at him.

Alfred felt his throat work frantically as he tried to suppress his first reaction. "Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I can do that. I mean, he's cute enough but after a while it's not that fun anymore, you know? I can be professional, anyway, I'm heir now." He could barely imagine the time he was willing to joke with Arthur about Kiku, before he had gotten in too deep.

"Good.  I'll see if I can arrange something with Yao to permit the reopening of negotiations," Arthur turned back to his work.  "Let me know when you've dealt with the problem I handed you, and I will let you know what Yao says."

"Alright," Alfred said and retreated, feeling like if Arthur looked at his expression he would give too much away. He paused at the door. "When Francis gets home do you want me to send him in?"

Arthur considered that question for a long moment before he sighed and nodded, "If you would."

"Sure," Alfred said and beat a hasty retreat through the door, boots pounding on the stairs down.

As soon as Alfred was gone, Arthur crossed to his decanter, poured himself two fingers of scotch and returned to the desk, having narrowed down Nataraja's arrival in the territory to a couple of months.  He knew he was risking obsessing, but the fact that this had slipped past him unnerved him and he was beginning to question what else he was missing.

o-o-o

Passing the others still in the living room, Alfred made a vague excuse about work—which was true for once—and was out the doors, fumbling for his phone.

Kiku picked up just before it went to voicemail, having locked himself in his room, and eternally grateful that he hadn't actually been in conversation with anyone, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Alfred said automatically, Kiku the only person he was inclined to apologize too. "I just wanted to warn you in case Yao mentioned it because I almost lost my mind in front of Arthur—he wants to get us in contact again."

Kiku paled, sitting down heavily on his bed, "He, he what?"

"With the shift in alliances, you know, the Germans and Russians really fucking it up? He said he would get into contact with Yao. You know those meets we used to sometimes have? He asked me if I could handle not calling you adorable and trying to get you to blush."

"I do not know if Yao will agree, and if so whether he will not send someone along," Kiku warned, still feeling off-balance from the information.

"I know," Alfred said. "I just—I wanted you to know. Prepare, you know? Not freak out. Though, I have to say the thought is pretty hilarious."

"Thank you," Kiku said, huffing a quiet laugh that may have held a slightly hysteric note.  "I cannot believe that he wishes us to meet.  That he thinks it would be a good idea."

"Well, we did get along and never shoot each other," Alfred said, tone wry. "I told him I teased you though, god, I was so brash about it."

Kiku drew a steadying breath at that, "You actually told him that?"

"Yeah, fuck, I did," Alfred said. "I was pissed off at him for—for something and he asked how the meet had gone. So I said it went great even though we made no progress because you were adorable and blushed easy. He has a memory like a steel trap. That didn't used to seem like such a bad thing."

"Do you think that he suspects?  That this might be as much a test hidden in the excuse of talking because of the Germans and Russians?"

"Jesus Christ," Alfred said after a beat. "No, I hadn't thought that. He's not really emotionally... all there you know? I didn't..."

"But is it possible?" Kiku asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Alfred said. "With official things, we'd just have to be more careful anyway. I knew that." He paused, thinking hard and frowning at his boots. "There's not been anything recently though... I mean, with Matthew and Leon but..."

"But not much else."

"No," Alfred agreed. "I mean, he can be sneaky and stab you in the back, but if he suspected this for a while, he would have moved sooner, and it probably would have started with confronting me. We'll just have to be careful."

"So, nothing new in that regard," Kiku said.  "Too many people know already."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, pinching his nose. "Fuck. Matthew and Liam, and Leon..."

"And Mei," Kiku reminded softly.

"Right," Alfred said and wanted to hit his head. "Fuck, that's four people outside of us. That's... that's too many. That's _way_ too many."

"It was bad enough when it was our own mistakes we had to worry about, but," Kiku swallowed.  "But this makes six people including us who know."

"It's still going to be okay," Alfred said, through gritted teeth.

Kiku drew a deep breath and nodded, "Of course it is.  I should go before anyone tries my door."

"Well, hopefully I'll see you soon," Alfred said, proud of the way his voice remained level. "I miss you. But I always miss you."

"And I you.  Take care."

"I," Alfred started and then nodded. "Yeah. Take care."

Kiku hesitated for a brief moment before hanging up and erasing evidence of the call before hiding the phone.


	32. A Habit of Neutrality

Winter hesitated inside the door, where Ivan sat at his desk working through his e-mails on his phone. “Yao is here to see you,” Winter said, unhappy with his role as butler and Ivan’s head whipped up.

“Eh?” he said, processing before shrugging. “Alright. Let him in then.”

Before Winter could reply, Yao swept into the room, Ivan’s brows coming down. “Did you think I would wait at the door like a common petitioner?” Yao asked, sitting down across from Ivan, his sleeves floating for a second longer as he folded his hands on his lap, his guard taking up a position by the door. Winter considered her a moment before placing himself on the other side of the door.

“What can I help you with today?” Ivan asked, instead of commenting on the fact Yao had seen fit to storm all the way into his house without his permission.

“You have allied yourself with the Germans,” Yao said, something dark crossing his face.

“Yes,” Ivan agreed, and a tiny part of his stomach still jumped at that, at the idea of a strong alliance and at the memory of Gilbert’s mouth pressed against his, in the alley and under the bright sky. “Do you find fault with that?”

“No,” Yao said. “Not directly. However, they are allied with the English.”

Ivan paused, considering, his mind tracking the web of alliances he had just walked himself into. “Yes,” he agreed finally, offering Yao a smile that was partly confused.

Yao’s fingers were tight under his long sleeves. “I am allied with you, the Germans with you, and the English with them. That puts me in alliance with the English by default.”

“Ah,” Ivan said, having arrived there moments before Yao spoke. “I could see your problem.”

“Will you break the alliance with them?” Yao demanded. “Or will you try to hold on to your betrayers instead of I, who allied with you when no one would.”

“It does not have to be either or,” Ivan said. “I will speak to the Germans and see what solution we can all come to.” He was not smiling and his voice was inching toward dangerously low.

Yao pushed himself to his feet, eyes narrowed. “And if you cannot come to some solution?”

“Are you already asking me to make a choice for either or?” Ivan asked, hands holding the edge of his desk and eyes narrowed.

“It may seem pre-emptive, but yes,” Yao said and Ivan remained stubbornly silent. “I also will press for a city-wide meeting,” Yao said after a beat of silence and Ivan’s eyes widened.

“Because of this alliance?” he asked.

“Everything has become muddled of late,” Yao said.

“A city-wide meeting is serious,” Ivan said, tenser now then he had been. “And dangerous.”

“Yes,” Yao agreed and Ivan considered, tilting his head to one side and up to look at Yao.

“I will have a solution for you before the meeting, then,” he said, because clearly Yao had other considerations beyond simply his alliance. “Perhaps next time you can stop by and we can have lunch together,” Ivan offered, a clumsy attempt at social interaction, which seemed easy for other people.

A smile flickered around Yao’s mouth and he nodded before sketching a shallow bow to Ivan and sweeping out of the room, Winter turning to follow him and his bodyguard out of the room as Ivan leaned back in his chair. Looking out the window, he folded his hands in his lap and wondered how badly the rest of the city might take the news, or what he would tell the Germans.

o-o-o

Sigurd slid onto the table in front of where Matthias was sprawled on the couch. "Oi, focus," he said, waving a sheaf of papers in front of his face. "I need you to read these. The other Houses are starting to get into a mess, and there's weird things going on along the edges of town."

"Can it wait for later?" Matthias asked, staring at the ceiling and limbs flailed out everywhere.

"No," Sigurd said. "At least, it shouldn't. I spent a lot of time working on these reports. The Germans and Russians have finalized their alliance, and the Asian House almost blew up when that happened, I think based on Wang's accumulated rage. Plus," he frowned, a tiny expression on his face. "I'm worried about these other rumors. There has been movement on the north and west sides of town that no one can explain. I was just talking to Nkomo, and he says they've started to notice something too. We just don't know what."

Berwald and Tino entered the room, Tino's steady stream of conversation stopping as they caught the last part of what Sigurd said.  Berwald glanced from Sigurd to Matthias as Tino spoke, "If anything's coming at the north side of the city, we could be in trouble."

"Whole city c'd be if we don' know what it is," Berwald corrected mutedly.

"Yeah," Sigurd said and whacked Matthias in the stomach with the papers he held.

"Oof," Matthias grunted, finally sitting up, eyes sliding automatically to Berwald. "Alright, alright, fine. Pushy, pushy."

Berwald settled in a chair opposite the couch Matthias was sitting on, setting to work on cleaning his gun as he mulled things over.  Tino paused before speaking again, "Has the Asian House calmed down at all after the German-Russian alliance?"

"Not yet," Sigurd said as Matthias took the reports, leaning his elbows on his knees and squinting at the pages. "I think Wang is probably going to start making more noise about it, not less."

Tino grimaced at that, "Of course.  And it's not like he can just release the alliance, especially considering the tangled knot of alliances around the Germans right now."

Sigurd nodded, looking around when he realized who wasn't there. "It's going to be a mess. It's already a mess but I'm waiting for the match to set the whole thing off."

Grunting, Matthias tossed some papers on the table Sigurd sat on, starting the second report.

"And I even printed it out size fourteen and everything," Sigurd said snidely and Matthias glowered at him from underneath his brows.

"I'm not sure it'll even take a full match," Tino said, tilting his head to skim what he could see of the report on the table without actually picking it up.

Berwald spoke, his blue eyes focused on Matthias, "Y' need glasses."

Sigurd pushed the report over to Tino as Matthias scowled at Berwald. "Shut up, I do not."

Tino picked up the report, reading it over.  Berwald's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, "Y' do.  Should see a doctor."

"Yeah, sure, we can get matching pairs," Matthias said, still holding the reports too close.

"Contacts exist f' a reason," Berwald said.

Matthias blinked, seeming to consider that. "Oh, I suppose there are those." Sigurd glanced over at Tino, as if asking him to share his pain at the conversation. Tino glanced at Sigurd, lips twitching into an ill-concealed smile.

"S'not safe t' need them'n not have them," Berwald stated.

"I can still see things," Matthias protested. "Like, fighting things. It's just reading is sometimes hard is all."

Berwald looked skeptical, "Y' strainin' y' eyes which makes it worse."

Matthias shot Sigurd a dark look, only gaining him a vaguely amused expression in reply. "What? I didn't flat out tell him you needed glasses."

"You're still a sneak," Matthias said and Sigurd shrugged, unconcerned.

Berwald's attention shifted to Sigurd, "Y' knew?"

"I guessed," Sigurd said. "When we actually know he's working it's easier to see him squint oddly at papers."

"And this is why I used to do it in secret," Matthias said, though he pulled a pen out of his pocket and started marking up some of the reports, a clearly practiced action.

"Idiot," Berwald said, though there was a faint note of affection hiding under the word.

Matthias paused before flashing him a smile and going back to the report, making looping marks around certain points and sprawling out possible courses of actions in the margin, doodling stars around another point. "If you say so."

Berwald's eyebrow twitched again, "Y'll go in then?"

Opening his mouth to say no, Matthias paused before shrugging slightly. "I can see what I can do," he said finally. "When there's time, you know?"

"Soon," Berwald countered, knowing exactly how long it could be before 'there's time'.

"What's happening soon?"  Eirik asked as he entered the room form where he had been half-searching for the others.

"Berwald wants Matthias to go see an eye doctor," Tino answered happily without looking up from the report as he picked up a pencil from where it lay next to Berwald's most recent book on an end table and made a couple of small notes that could be accepted or ignored.

"Are you proofing my reports?" Sigurd asked, glancing over and Matthias stopped long enough to look over at Tino, covering his laugh with his elbow.

Tino blinked at him for a minute, "Not really?  I mean, sort of?  Mostly it was just a small thought that might bear looking into if we have time and opportunity.  And okay, a couple of sentences aren't quite clear." Berwald snorted, but kept his attention on the gun he was cleaning.

Sigurd stared at him for a moment before finally shaking his head and leaning back on his palms on the table. "Alright, fine," he said, the corner of his mouth twisted.

"I understand him clearly," Matthias said, waving his bright pink pen around before going back to his notes. "From, you know, practice probably." Sigurd's eyes focused on Eirik and he offered him a faint smile.

Tino shrugged in response to Matthias, "It's pretty clear for the most part.  Some ambiguity but to the point otherwise."

"It's a habit of neutrality," Eirik said, crossing over to join Sigurd sitting on the table.

"Ambiguity and a neutral persona go hand in hand now?"  Tino asked, looking up finally, "Somehow that's not what I would have thought."

"Neutrality?" Sigurd asked, his eyes having tracked Eirik the whole way over.

Eirik hummed, reaching for the book that sat on the end table, thumbing through it and earning a quick glance from Berwald, "Yeah."

"Am I a neutral person then?" Sigurd asked, almost stealing the book from him.

"You told me you were," Eirik responded, shifting the book away.  "I'm wearing my contacts."

"Oh god," Matthias groaned. "Maybe it's a genetic thing to need glasses here."

Sigurd frowned, unsure why he was. "Ah. Indeed."

Settling himself a little further into Sigurd's space, Eirik opened the book, skimming over the titles of the included essays and finding one that caught his interest, "Depends on the sort of bad eyesight, I think.  I know mine's tied to genetics.  And Berwald's had glasses as long as I can remember."

Matthias groaned. "You'll probably be next, Sigurd."

"I doubt it," Sigurd snorted but did not look over. "Wouldn't you rather read on the couch or a chair?"

"Tino could be," Eirik pointed out before shrugging in answer to the question.

"My eyesight's still better than normal, actually," Tino replied.

"Well, congrats to you," Matthias said and hesitated before leaning all the way over to hand Berwald the report he was finished with. "Since it seems to be sharing hour suddenly."

Berwald wiped the gun oil off of his hands before accepting the report and reading through it, "Tino's always braggin'."

"I am not," Tino protested.

"Bout that y'are," Berwald answered without missing a beat.

"Well, considering everyone else's apparent lack, Sigurd excepted," Matthias said but Sigurd ignored him, rising and pulling at Eirik's arm.

"At least move to a chair," he said. "Your back won't appreciate staying there very long."

Eirik looked up from the book, offering Sigurd a mildly exasperated look, but rose after only a token resistance, "And how long were you sitting there?"

"Not long enough to finish a whole essay," Sigurd said easily. He didn't mention he was used to sitting on Matthias' desk to give reports, waiting long enough for a response before leaving again to finish whichever task he was working on.

"It's not even a long essay," Eirik protested, but dropped into one of the larger chairs in the room, catching Sigurd's wrist and giving a sharp tug to indicate he should join him somehow. Sigurd considered before burrowing down, and pulling Eirik up slightly so the younger was half on his lap, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist.  Eirik settled against him, resting his head on Sigurd's shoulder as he started reading the essay again. 

Berwald's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly and Tino didn't even bother trying to hide his smile as he finished up the report in his hands and set it down on the table, drifting over to read over Berwald's shoulder.

"You're snooping," Matthias said, on the last report and frowning. The German and Russian alliance seemed surprisingly solid, and the report on the Asian House was not surprising. But this one felt particularly alarming.

"I usually am," Tino agreed, leaning over Berwald's shoulder to point at a particular sentence that Matthias had marked and Berwald nodded before batting his hand away.

Sigurd watched them a moment before resting his chin on Eirik's shoulder and considering the book he was reading. This was certainly not how he usually reported to Matthias as he was fairly certain leaving when the last report was finished had suddenly become out of the question. He was too sleepy and content suddenly, nose brushing against Eirik's hair.

Eirik hummed quietly, turning the page and only paying a modicum of attention to what was going on in the rest of the room, comfortable curled up with Sigurd and fascinated by the critical essay he was reading that he would not have guessed Berwald would read—it had notes in the margins in Berwald's precise handwriting, though.

"Did you know Berwald read literary criticism?" Sigurd asked, mouth almost pressed against his ear as he whispered.

Eirik's lips twitched up in a faint smile as he shook his head and murmured, "Didn't think it would be his style."

"Eighteenth century too," Sigurd continued to murmur, before he nuzzled Eirik's hair again.

Eirik tilted his head ever so slightly at the touch, "Are you seeing the marginal notes?  He's read the work it's critiquing—pretty thoroughly too."

Sigurd laughed. "Should ask him where he found the time."

Eirik smiled, shifting to a slightly more comfortable position, still curled half on top of Sigurd.   Berwald glanced at them as he set down the report on the Asian response to the German-Russian alliance, but all he did was shake his head and turn his attention toward Matthias as Tino scooped the report up to read the portion Berwald had already gone over by the time he started reading.

Sighing, Sigurd looked over at Matthias who finished the last report and set it down with a frown. "Do you need me?" he asked, clearly reluctant and Matthias shook his head.

"Not yet," he said, steepling his fingers.

Berwald reached over and picked up the last report, skimming through the pages quickly, focusing on Matthias' notes and the salient points, his expression slowly shifting to match Matthias' before he set the papers down by the Head of the House again and returned to cleaning his gun.  Eirik had watched this quietly and murmured to Sigurd, "How bad is that report?"

"It could be very bad," Sigurd said, fingers tracing along his side. "But right now it's just rumors and shadows."

"What sorts of rumors?" Eirik asked, reaching up to brush Sigurd's curl back.

Sigurd twitched slightly and took a deep breath before shifting his head. "There are people moving oddly. The Africans noticed it too, and were kind enough to compare notes with me. But, there's just odd movements, shipments that don't make sense. It could simply be tension from the city center bleeding outward."

"But there's always tension in the city center.  I mean, it's been worse this year, but it's always there," Eirik said, finally closing Berwald's book.

"Yeah," he said, hitching Eirik further up against his chest and breathing calmly.

Eirik hummed an old tune under his breath without really thinking about it, tucking his head under Sigurd's chin. Matthias was finally looking over at them but he only rolled his eyes slightly, tapping his mouth with the sheets from the report. "What are you humming?" Sigurd asked.

Eirik felt color rise to his cheeks, "How Deep Is the Ocean." Tino ducked his head to hide his smile at that.

For a moment Sigurd sat, counting the beats of his heart before pushing Eirik slightly. "Come on, let's go for a walk."

Eirik blinked at him for a moment before getting to his feet, setting the book down near Berwald, "Alright."

Looking around the room, Sigurd focused on Matthias who was still staring at the wall. "If that's alright?"

"Yeah," Matthias said, shaking his head slightly. "I'll talk to you when you get back. Need some time to think anyway."

Once the brothers had left, Berwald's eyebrow arched and Tino shrugged in response, answering the silent question, "A while.  They're still sorting things out."

Eirik glanced at Sigurd as he pulled on his brown coat and wrapped his white scarf around his neck, "The walk was kind of abrupt."

"Sorry," Sigurd said, pausing before twining a pale blue scarf around his neck and tucking the ends into his coat. "I just couldn't sit any longer. And Berwald was staring."

"He does that," Eirik pointed out.  "Besides, Tino and Matthias seem to both know, it was only a matter of time before Berwald figured it out."

"I know that," Sigurd said, shaking his head slightly. "I just wanted to move."

Eirik slid his hand into Sigurd's as the exited the house, "Alright.  As long as it isn't actually running away from what the others think."

Pausing as he closed the door, Sigurd tilted his head slightly. "Did you think that's what it was?"

"Not until you mentioned Berwald staring."

"I don't like others staring," Sigurd said. "That doesn't mean that I—I'm ashamed."

"Good," Eirik said, tipping his head back slightly to consider the sky.  "I mean I figured that, but I'm glad to have it confirmed."

Sigurd paused before reaching a hand out, pressing their palms together as they walked. It felt odd. "It's their business because we're family, but I don't really want it to be."

"It's only sort of their business even then," Eirik said, curling his fingers around Sigurd's.  "People are going to talk, and probably stare.  Even ignoring how close we all have always been."

"I suppose so," Sigurd said after a beat, flexing his fingers before twining them more tightly around Eirik's. "It'll take me a bit, I guess, to get used to it."

"To people talking or to this?" Eirik asked, squeezing Sigurd's hand lightly.

"Both," he said, looking over. "It seems easy and then I think about everything else."

"You're thinking too much," Eirik said, shaking his head to get some of his hair out of his eyes.

"Perhaps," he said after a beat. "But I can hold you and it's different but it's not—it still makes sense. It's when I think about other things," he paused. "It makes me want to do other things with you. Honestly, it's very distracting."

Eirik came to a full stop at those words, blinking at Sigurd, "Well then why don't you?"

"I don't," he paused and tilted his head back. "Want to move too fast or do something wrong."

Eirik looked at him, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Sigurd's hair right there and then and see if he could ruffle it out of place, "Have you ever known me to not voice it if I’m not happy with what's happening?"

"No," Sigurd admitted.

"Then trust me to tell you if it's going too fast for me, or if you're doing something wrong."

"What if I don't know how fast I want to go?" Sigurd asked, looking back around the block where they were walking.

"Is that what's really worrying you?" Eirik asked, considering the nearly empty street.

"I can't have more than one worry?" Sigurd asked, tone mild.

"That's not really what I meant.  But there's two of us in this and I'd like to know what problems you're having with this."

"You're my brother," Sigurd said. "You're younger. I've not done this either and I don't like not having a plan. To start with."

Eirik stopped and pulled Sigurd around to face him, "You're the one who told me the brother thing was secondary or something like that."

"And it _is_ ," he said. "It barely changes anything but I," he frowned, a tiny crease between his brows and almost hidden by his bangs. "Sometimes I think about it and it worries me."

"Is it that someone would know?"  Eirik asked, still trying to figure out how to address the other concerns Sigurd had offered and drawing blanks.

"That you might change your mind."

"No," Eirik said before he realized it.  "That's not going to happen.  I know you haven't had as much time to think this through as I have, and hell knows I should have given you more, but I'm not going to change my mind."

Sigurd opened his mouth before he stopped and nodded. "Alright," he said. "I just... want you to be sure."

"How much of your doubt about my certainty ties into your worries over me being younger?"

Sigurd's hand tightened on his abruptly. "It doesn't _help_."

"I'm an adult.  I'm old enough to make this decision," Eirik reminded him, not mentioning things he was sure Sigurd was well aware of like the fact that he was barely a year over legal age.

"It's not the legality of it," Sigurd said. "That doesn't matter really. It's that sometimes saying you're an adult doesn't mean you know what you want." He stooped slightly, pressing his mouth against the top of Eirik's hair. "I'm probably being silly."

"I don't always know what I want," Eirik admitted.  "But I do know I want _this_.  And that has nothing to do with whether I'm an adult or not.  For god's sake, Sigurd, I made the mistake of running that blood test because I was afraid it would come back positive and I needed to reassure myself that it wouldn't because of how I felt about you."

"So can you say that worked out for you or not?" Sigurd asked, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Eirik couldn't help but smile, "I'd say it's working out, actually.  When those results came back I didn't think it would, but it seems to be."

For a moment Sigurd hesitated before he leaned down, gently nudging their mouths together. Eirik stretched up onto his toes to lessen the angle, his hands cupping Sigurd's cheeks and feeling how cool they were from the slight breeze around them, as he pressed into the kiss.

Taking a breath, Sigurd wrapped his hands around Eirik's waist to hold him there, opening his mouth and going carefully deeper. Eirik made a sound in the back of his throat, fingers brushing the tips of Sigurd's hair before he slid his right hand back to tangle in the blond locks.

One of Sigurd's hands came back to cover one of Eirik's, but it was unclear if he was simply holding it or trying to stop it messing his hair. "What are you doing?" he asked, only pulling back a breath.

"Kissing you back," Eirik answered simply, his right hand still tangled in Sigurd's hair.

Sigurd tapped the hand in his hair with his fingers. Eirik shrugged, carefully disentangling his fingers and smoothing Sigurd's hair down, refusing to admit a desire to see the Sigurd rumpled for once. Catching his hand, Sigurd kissed the tips of his fingers, the closest he had gotten to something that could not be considered brotherly beyond kisses. Eirik's eyes widened and his fingers curled instinctively as he swallowed.

"I wanted to go for a walk to clear my head," Sigurd said, dropping the hand. "I suppose I should have known that wasn't going to work."

"It might have, but you brought me out with you," Eirik said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Yes," Sigurd agreed. "It was counterproductive." His hand reached out again though, brushing across Eirik's cheek before dropping. "This isn't really the place for this sort of thing."

"For kissing, you mean?" Eirik asked, tone neutral.

"Yes," he nodded. "It's cold, it could be dangerous."

Eirik considered that for a moment, "And if we go inside where it's warm and less dangerous?"

Swallowing, Sigurd looked over at him. "Certainly won't clear my head."

"Is it a bad thing if it doesn't clear your head?" Eirik asked.

Sigurd stared at him for a moment, as if cataloging something important at the back of his mind. "It was the point of taking a walk. I need to talk to Matthias later."

"And the walk clearly failed in that goal, so I'm just trying to figure out if you honestly think there's something that would."

Sigurd looked away, toward where the ocean met the docks and considered. "There could be things," he said. "But I'm not sure they would work now."

Eirik watched him for a long moment before looking out over the docks, "What sorts of things?"

"Things," Sigurd said, catching his hand again. "Come on. Let's go back." Eirik twined his fingers around Sigurd's, using his free hand to readjust his scarf against the wind coming in off the ocean as they started back for the house. "You said I was your teenage fantasy," Sigurd said after several moments of silence. "I still don't understand it."

"I would have thought that was pretty clear," Eirik said, glancing at him.  "What don't you understand?"

"The why of it, mostly," Sigurd shrugged, not looking over at him but their hands entwined.

"Because you're you.  Because you always had time for me.  Because, on a more physical note, you're gorgeous.  Because, god you want a coherent list?"

"It's nice to hear," Sigurd said after a moment, once his voice would come out smooth and even. "I also tended to pester you into wearing contacts and feed you whether you wanted it or not, and spent most of my time either out with Matthias or Tino, and the rest of the time either arguing with Matthias or punching him."

"I bitch and moan about the contacts and feeding thing, but it made me feel cared for.  Still does."  He paused, "This is not encouragement to pester me more about that than you already to, by the way.  And yeah you spent a lot of time out with them, or fighting with Matthias, but it doesn't change anything I just said about you being there when I needed you."

"Funny," he said after a moment. "I always thought I was being a horrible caretaker."

Eirik looked at him incredulously, "What made you think that?"

"I always had somewhere else to be, other things to do," Sigurd shrugged. "And you would avoid me and lock yourself in your room or yell at me to leave you alone." He didn't mention the time Matthias found him curled up in the hallway because he had fallen asleep against Eirik's door.

"I'm not saying they were easy years, but they weren't bad either.  And you did your best."

"I wish you would have told me then my best was good enough," Sigurd said, and raised their hands to kiss Eirik's knuckles.

Eirik tightened his fingers around Sigurd's hand reflexively, "I'm sorry you thought it wasn't."

He certainly wasn't going to mention the time he had found the furthest corner of the house and cried until his eyes hurt. Tino was the only in the family to even be aware he could cry. "It's alright. I know now, when you're old enough to take care of yourself."

"If you say so," Eirik murmured, not entirely believing him considering the specification on 'now'.

Sigurd fell silent until they rounded a corner and were only a few blocks away from the house. "It's been a long time since I was unhappy," he said. "About you, I mean. I wanted you to be happy, but it's not—you've grown up and you've grown up well. You still pout sometimes but so does Matthias. I am—I'm proud of you."

Eirik stared at him for a long moment, trying to formulate words to articulate a response to that, "I, thank you, Sigurd.  You did a good job, and I'm sorry if I ever, I mean for the times I made you doubt that."

"Doubted most things then," he shrugged. "If we were going to survive or not, if we would ever make it through, if I wouldn't kill Matthias before we reached twenty..."

"But we did and you didn't kill him, so we made out alright," Eirik offered, fingers tightening around Sigurd's again.

"Something like alright," Sigurd said, and smiled. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Eirik stretched up and kissed Sigurd lightly, starting to sink back down from his toes almost immediately. "Inside," Sigurd said after a breath. "Where the others aren't so likely to find us."

Eirik nodded, stepping back and turning to open the door to the house, already untying his scarf from around his neck. Sigurd caught his fingers up in Eirik's scarf for a moment, almost pulling him closer again before shrugging out of his coat and smoothing down his hair with one hand.

Eirik hung up his coat and scarf, turning to Sigurd, "And even with your worries you're okay with _us_ , right?"

"I'm working on it," he admitted. "I mostly am."

"Alright," Eirik nodded very slightly.

"Where would you like to hide?" Sigurd asked, hanging his coat up and turning around, checking to make sure the others were still in the living room.

"I don't know.  I've never really actively avoided people beyond locking my door, you know."

"We could always do that," Sigurd offered before ushering Eirik quickly up the stairs before anyone came to check the door.

Eirik paused at the door to his room before opening it and stepping inside, holding it for Sigurd. Slipping inside, Sigurd stopped in front of Eirik's several bookcases, considering the books more closely than he had in a long time. "Your tastes have changed somewhat."

"I really should go through and either box or get rid of some of those.  I'm not going to reread them, probably," Eirik admitted, turning on his lamp in addition to the overhead light.

"Yeah? Which ones?" Sigurd asked and tilted his head at one of the titles before pulling it off the shelf and feeling his eyes widen at the cover.

Eirik turned toward him, speaking as he did so, "Some of the older ones and—" His eyes widened as he realized what Sigurd was holding, "And I suddenly remember why I kept you away from those shelves."

"It's," Sigurd said, flipping through the book. "How often did you read this?"

He felt his cheeks color at that, "A few times."

Sigurd skimmed one of the sex scenes and felt his brow twitch up. "It's not very realistic," he said and shut the book, sliding it back where it belonged, checking the covers of the few around it.

"Romance novels usually aren't very," Eirik managed, resisting the urge to pull Sigurd away from the bookshelf.

Sigurd stopped at one that had a cover with a blond that looked remarkably like him. "You know, you never did tell me what any of those fantasies were."

"Well, you hadn't asked," Eirik replied.

"If I did?" Sigurd asked, putting the last book away and wandering over to the window instead.

Eirik shrugged very slightly, "I don't know what to tell you.  There were several."

Leaning against the windowsill Sigurd arched a brow. "Well, what was one then?"

Eirik paused at that question and shook his head slightly before resting a hand on the windowsill next to Sigurd for balance as he stretched up to kiss Sigurd rather than answer.

"You're avoiding the question," Sigurd said, but the corners of his mouth twitched up and he slid his hands around Eirik to hold him up.

"Sort of," Eirik admitted, the hand not on the windowsill cupping the back of Sigurd's neck as he leaned in to kiss him again.

"Alright," Sigurd allowed, fingers tracing aimless patterns as he shifted to kiss Eirik's cheek, smearing his mouth down to his chin.

Tilting his head to give Sigurd better access, Eirik let his fingers tangle in Sigurd's hair, his other hand moving from the windowsill to Sigurd's waist. Sigurd's breath barely caught before he shifted back, pushing Eirik with him. Eirik took a couple of steps back, hesitating for a brief moment before sitting down on the edge of his bed and tugging at Sigurd's hand as he did so.

For a moment Sigurd paused, stroking his hands over Eirik's hair and smiling faintly, a quiet expression on his face. "I never thought you'd want me."

Eirik leaned into the touch, blinking rapidly at him, "Really?  I mean, I..."

Sigurd hummed, still stroking his hair. "There may have been a breakdown in communication. You were certainly doing your best to hide."

"It seemed like an easier route at the time," Eirik said.

"Foolish route," Sigurd said, lightly whacking the back of his head before he sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged Eirik closer.

Sliding close easily, Eirik shrugged, "Okay, yeah it was stupid, but I came around."

"Yes," Sigurd agreed, wrapping his arms around Eirik's waist and pulling him against his side, half turning.

Eirik's left hand moved to rest against the side of Sigurd's neck before he leaned in for another kiss. Digging his fingers into Eirik's hair, Sigurd slowed the kiss but deepened it, his tongue dragging along the roof of his mouth. The sound that rose in the back of Eirik's throat at that was closer to a moan than he actually wanted to admit and he wrapped his right hand around Sigurd's shirt front, pulling himself closer.

Sigurd almost drew back at that to tease Eirik and decided that he enjoyed where he was more. He repeated the motion, slower, though his hands started to move faster, first in Eirik's hair and then scraping down his back. Eirik nearly melted at that touch, the hand that had been wrapped in Sigurd's shirt slipping down to rest on his hip and the one at the back of Sigurd's neck tangling in his hair. "God," Sigurd said and his eyes looked a little dazed. "Did your spine just disappear?"

Blinking at him and trying to actually process what had been said, it took Eirik a moment to respond and he laughed, "I'm pretty sure it's still there.  I think so at least."

Sigurd dug his fingers into the base of Eirik's spine, almost slipping under his pants. "Hm, you're right, it's still here."

That elicited a whine in the back of Eirik's throat and he caught Sigurd's mouth in a harsh kiss rather than try to form actual words. Fingers scrambling on his back, Sigurd turned enough to drag Eirik up on his lap, hands under his thighs to balance him in the new position. Eirik gasped against Sigurd's mouth at that motion, fingers digging in to where he had braced against Sigurd's shoulders before one hand slid down Sigurd's chest and the other went to rake through his hair.

A moan tore out of Sigurd's throat as his hands came back around Eirik's waist, feeling the heat of him when he accidentally slid his hands under the hem of his shirt. He drew back with a shocked expression before swallowing hard. "Too fast."

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Eirik swallowed.  His gaze darted over Sigurd's face, taking in his ruffled hair and rumpled shirt before Eirik nodded very slightly, "Okay."

"You're so sensitive," Sigurd said, marveling and swallowing hard, before he carefully trailed his fingers up higher along Eirik's back, underneath his shirt still.

Eirik's eyes slipped closed at that touch, his breath catching, "Never realized just how, how much."

Sigurd's eyes darted across his face, and it was easier to trace every bump of Eirik's spine that he could reach to see his reactions than it was to be caught up in sensation himself. "How far?" he asked, wanting to tear the fabric of the shirt.

Blinking his eyes open again, Eirik paused for the briefest of moments before leaning back and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt so he could pull it over his head, dropping it to one side, "A little further."

Sigurd blinked once, slowly before he leaned down, pressing his mouth to Eirik's collarbone and continuing the path his hands had started until he reached the bottom of his neck, trailing back down to splay his hands on his shoulder blades. Tipping his head back, Eirik tried to draw a steady breath and failed miserably at it.  His fingers slipped back into Sigurd's hair almost automatically.

"What's with you and my hair?" Sigurd asked, considering the collarbone in front of him like he wanted to bite it but kissing up Eirik's throat instead.

"It's always so neat," Eirik responded.  "It's soft too, but mostly it's just so...orderly normally."

Sigurd blinked again before straightening enough to meet Eirik's eyes. "That might as well describe all of me."

Eirik's lips twitched into a smile at that, "Well, yeah.  But this is something tactile and visible that shows it."

Considering, Sigurd leaned up again to bump their mouths together, a series of quick kisses, drawing Eirik's strangled breath into his lungs and trying not to breathe back out. Eirik drew back a few moments later, resting his hand flat against Sigurd's chest over his heart, "Too much."

Sucking in a breath, Sigurd nodded, drawing back and his pupils blown wide. "Alright."

Offering Sigurd a brief kiss, Eirik slid off of his lap to settle beside him instead.

"Are you alright?" Sigurd asked, hands falling to his lap.

Eirik nodded, "More than alright.  It's just a lot of sensation is all."

"Yes," he agreed, swallowing again but he couldn't help but reach out and trace a hand down the front of Eirik's chest. "It rather is."

Leaning into the touch, Eirik offered him a bit of a smile, "But it's a good thing.  I like it, just not used to it."

"We can work on that," Sigurd said with more force than usual.

Eirik couldn't help a quiet laugh at that, "Good.  I look forward to that."

"Can I kiss you again?" Sigurd asked, tilting forward. "Or still too much?"

"You can kiss me again.  It was everything else on top of that," Eirik said, hand moving to rest against Sigurd's chest again, fingers curled slightly.

Sigurd tilted forward, for a moment trying to only press a gentle kiss to his mouth. Eirik hummed, allowing that for a moment before parting his lips under Sigurd's as he leaned into the kiss. "So responsive," Sigurd murmured, drawing back and tracing his fingers over Eirik's hair and down his cheekbones before he shifted away and laid back on the bed.

Eirik sounded almost like he'd been struck at that before he stretched out next to Sigurd, curling next to him. Sigurd smoothed a hand over Eirik's hair, shifting his shoulders to get more comfortable on the mattress. "Yours is softer than mine."

Tilting his head into the touch like an overgrown cat, Eirik let his eyes half close, "Not by a lot."

Arching a brow at the ceiling, Sigurd slid his eyes over. "And when have you made that comparison?"

"Recently," Eirik answered, nuzzling into Sigurd's side.

"And when were you in my bed?" Sigurd frowned at the ceiling.

Eirik blushed to the roots of his hair, "I was talking about your hair."  Though there had been one point where he'd gone into Sigurd's room for something else and ended up stretching out on the bed there.

"Ah," Sigurd smiled over at him. "I meant the bed. The mattress."

He ducked his head at that, trying to hide his smile, "Yeah, yeah I got that."

"So you've never snuck into my room then?" Sigurd asked, looking over with one brow still arched.

"Why would I do something like that?"

"Because," Sigurd said, smirking now as he turned around, hands threading through Eirik's hair. "You're the one who's wanted me for years. Why wouldn't you sneak in? Curl up and dream?"

Eirik ducked his head to rest it against Sigurd's chest and hide his face, "Okay, yeah once or twice."

Sigurd blinked, suddenly not feeling like teasing. "Really?"

"Mhm," Eirik hummed quietly enough he almost wasn't heard.

"When?" Sigurd asked, cupping the back of Eirik's head and twining their legs together before he thought about it.

"Once last year, I'd actually gone in looking for something else and ended up sitting down and then lying down for just a moment," he paused for a beat.  "And when I was sixteen.  There was one night when you were out and you were gone all night."  Eirik buried his face more thoroughly against Sigurd's chest, "I slept in your room that night."

Pausing, Sigurd looked past his shoulder, running his fingers up and down his spine again. "Was that when you wouldn't speak to me for a few days afterward?"

Eirik nodded, fingers curling in Sigurd's shirt once more.

"In hindsight, a lot more makes sense now," Sigurd said, huffing out a breath, almost a laugh. "That was a bad night," he said after a beat, anchoring himself with the feel of Eirik's skin.

"I didn't sleep much," Eirik admitted.  "I was so afraid you weren't going to come home.  And then when you did, Matthias had been shot and that just made it worse."

Sigurd nodded, not mentioning he had been grazed as well but Tino had helped him stich it up quietly. It was nothing like Matthias. "I wasn't sure we were going to make it home. We went from a horrible meet with Vargas to some thugs from the Russian house. And then Berwald spent a long time yelling at me for allowing Matthias to get shot." He nuzzled against Eirik's temple. "I was so tired I didn't fully figure out someone had been sleeping in my bed. I knew someone was there but..."

Eirik hummed, curling closer and all but clinging to Sigurd, "I'm just glad you both made it home.  I'd stayed up waiting until Tino and Berwald both ordered me to bed."

"And then you went to mine?" Sigurd asked. "I'm sorry, we had to take the long way home."

"They didn't specify which one," Eirik answered.  "I needed to be somewhere that felt like you were there."

Sigurd rubbed small circles onto the skin of his back. "I wish I could promise it wouldn't happen again."

"I'd rather you didn't.  We'd both know it was a lie," Eirik murmured, pulling back enough to sit up and pull up a blue blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed.

Sigurd watched him quietly, paying attention to the play of his muscles as he moved. "Yeah," he said faintly.

"Just promise me that you'll be as careful as you can."

"I always am," Sigurd said. "I'd rather be alive myself. Let alone not be yelled at by Berwald. Have you ever heard him yell?" He paused, still watching Eirik from half lidded eyes. "Actually, I should have seen them coming years ago."

Eirik shook his head, "I've never seen him actually get angry, I don't think.  I didn't know he _could_ yell."

"I don't suggest it," Sigurd said and propped himself up enough to run a hand down Eirik’s back. "Honestly. I should have seen this miles away and yet it still took me by surprise that they've gotten together."

"I think we were still all under the impression that Berwald and Tino were together," Eirik said, pulling the blanket up and laying back down, tugging the blanket up to their shoulders.

"Are we sleeping like this then?" Sigurd asked, tangling their legs back together.

Eirik nodded, curling around Sigurd's chest, "If you're okay with that."

"I'm still dressed," Sigurd said, arching a brow.

"More of a catnap than actually sleeping then," Eirik said.

Tilting forward, Sigurd dragged their mouths together before he brought his arms down to wrap around Eirik's waist. Eirik pressed into the kiss, one hand resting against Sigurd's chest still and the other shifting to rest on his waist.

"Go to sleep," Sigurd said, tapping his fingers against Eirik's back. "I'm here. Go to sleep." Eirik hummed, resting his head against Sigurd's chest and relaxing into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies from both your authors for how long this chapter has taken. Hope you enjoyed it, and the next chapter will be up sooner than this one was, promise!
> 
> Also known as the chapter when the Nordics just would not stop.
> 
> Nkomo is Cameroon


	33. Make Sure You're Walking Off the Right Cliff

Vash reached the front door of the German House and opened it on the second firm knock that rang against the old wood.  His green eyes widened ever so slightly at the Head of the Russian House who was standing on the other side.  He looked Ivan over for a brief moment and turned his head just enough to spot one of the lower level security members of the German House.  Rattling off a quick string of instructions in German for the other to go find Gilbert he turned back to Ivan and took a step back into the foyer, "Come in."

"Thank you," Ivan said brightly, Winter looming over his shoulder and looking irritated to be there. "Is Gilbert here?"

"He should be down in a minute," Vash said, noticing as they stepped inside that the other members of the German House that had been in the foyer besides his messenger had abruptly deserted it when he'd given the order to find Gilbert.  He would need to have a word with them about what "security" actually meant.

"Wonderful," Ivan said brightly, smile fixed firmly in place as he looked around in curiosity. "You're one of the guards, aren't you?"

Vash nodded once, arms resting loosely at his sides, though his fingers twitched at both Ivan's exploratory gaze and at the question, "Yes."

"Have you been here long?" Ivan asked, not quite focusing on Vash but keeping him in his vision.

"I remember the last war," Vash said by way of answer.

"I meant working for the House," Ivan said but his eyes seemed to focus on Vash more as the sound of running footsteps could be heard, Gilbert coming in from around the corner with his hair wild and wearing running shorts.

"You should warn a person," he said, out of breath. "I just only got back..." He stopped and swallowed at the look Ivan was giving him.

Vash's eyebrows rose and he looked Gilbert over briefly before shaking his head and retreating to one wall of the foyer.

"Gilbert," Ivan said, and Gilbert started trying to make his hair lay flat as he realized what he must look like.

"Hi," Gilbert managed. "I didn't expect you to come here. Are you meeting with my brother about the treaty?"

"He asked if you were here when he came in," Vash contributed, considering stepping out of the room to give the rest of the House a heads up that Ivan and Winter were there, but unwilling to let them out of his sight.

"Oh," Gilbert managed.

"Should I not have come?" Ivan asked, stilling and Gilbert darted out, grabbing his wrist.

"No, just, I was surprised," he said and Ivan frowned. "Come on, give me a minute to adjust my two worlds."

Vash finally pushed off the wall, "Are you going to be alright here, Gilbert?"

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded. "Actually, come on, I need to change so just, come on," he said and started to tug Ivan away with him, Winter frowning before taking up a position at the door.

Vash watched them and decided to stay in the foyer with Winter.  He was aware that there wasn't much he could do should Winter decide to act.

For a while Winter remained silent before he looked over at the other guard. "You do not look pleased to see us."

"Would you be pleased to see another Head and his personal guard enter your House unannounced?"  Vash asked.  "You do not look pleased to be here."

"We're allies now," Winter pointed out.

Vash nodded once, "We are."

Winter drummed his fingers on the opposite elbow, the first real sign of agitation he had shown. "Ivan does whatever he likes. Are you not concerned for what this alliance means for your own House?"

"Anyone who isn't is a fool," Vash replied.  "But my job isn't to worry about the ins and outs of the alliance, just what it means for certain peoples' safety."

"But not Gilbert's?" Winter asked.

Vash shook his head, "He's on the list, but he's also capable of taking care of himself, for the most part."

Winter hummed, tilting his head back up to look up the stairs where Gilbert and Ivan had disappeared to. He frowned when he heard a voice he recognized. Starting forward, he stopped before he went up the stairs, looking back over at Vash. "Do you have other guests?"

Vash raised his eyebrows slightly and then nodded.

"Who?" Winter asked, eyes moving over.

"Does it matter?"  Vash asked.  "They're no threat to you or your Head."  Which he knew wasn't quite true, but they weren't really any longer considering the alliance.

Winter bit back what he wanted to say, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall again, waiting for Ivan before pressing the issue. Vash settled back against the wall as well, hoping that the person he had sent to tell Gilbert that Ivan was there had the sense to let other people know as well.  He really did not want to be thinking about Lili near Ivan or Winter at the moment.

o-o-o

Dragging Ivan along behind him, Gilbert barreled into his room. "Should I not have come?" Ivan asked, voice pitched too high to be anything but nervous, even if he didn't look it.

"Warning would have been nice," Gilbert said, turning around and leaning up to kiss him, hand still wrapped around his wrist. Ivan made a quiet content sound before Gilbert pulled away. "Partly just so you don't scare everyone, not that seeing Vash's expression wasn't great," and he laughed, peeling his shirt off as he turned.

"You go running?" Ivan asked, peering around the room and trying to not be surprised by how neatly everything was packed away, the bed looking oddly Spartan compared to his own.

Gilbert stilled for a minute, shirt still in his hands. "I like moving, you know? And it's nice, to be able to go outside."

For a moment Ivan stared at him and Gilbert threw the shirt away in a ball to where there was a laundry basket, going to closet. "I like watching you move," Ivan said finally, skirting the issue of how long he kept Gilbert inside.

Gilbert laughed again, shaking his head and Ivan leaned around his shoulder. "Eh?" Ivan said in confusion, the jeans and tee shirts and garish clothes packed in with suits for business and several that Ivan had given him were reverently hung separate from the others.

"Eh?" Gilbert echoed back to him, digging out a shirt with a bright logo and pulling it over his head before wiggling out of the shorts.

"I," Ivan started and looked at him sideways. "You never said anything, about the suits," he said. "When I gave them to you."

Gilbert stilled, having stepped into his jeans and pulled them up but not closed them yet. "I liked the suits," he said. "I just... don't usually wear them every day. But I like the suits you got for me."

"You were wearing one," Ivan said.

Gilbert muttered under his breath about proving something to someone. "Were you trying to impress someone?" Ivan asked in a sing song voice and Gilbert stared at him for a long moment.

"Yeah? But don't even joke about that, it was to prove I could dress myself to... to Roderich of all people." He shook his head, digging out a belt and looping it through the jeans viciously. When he looked up, Ivan was watching him oddly. "What?" he managed.

"You look," Ivan started and just dragged him forward. "I miss you."

"Yeah, we'll figure out like a schedule or something—" Gilbert said, pupils going dark. "Think I could go running in your territory?"

"Maybe parts of it," Ivan allowed, lifting Gilbert up and pressing him against the door of the closet, banging it shut. Gilbert laughed again, holding on to his shoulders.

Twining his fingers in Ivan's hair, he accepted the kiss shoved against his mouth, trying to breathe through his nose and finally giving it up as a lost cause. "Ivan, it's the middle of the day—"

"Well, you haven't been there at night," Ivan shrugged as if that justified it.

"Hey," Gilbert hit his shoulder. "No one expected you. Ludwig will probably come looking for me—"

"And you don't want him to see?" Ivan asked and Gilbert hit him again. "Why not?"

"He's my brother! My little brother! Even if he is having sex of his own now which honestly I don't want to think about as it is, okay? We mutually don't like to think about it." Gilbert paused for a moment, twisting his mouth around as he looked at Ivan. "We could, you know, go out together," he said finally.

Ivan blinked up at him, still holding Gilbert up against his closet. "Go out?"

"Like, for lunch, together," Gilbert said, not quite meeting his eyes. "I mean, if you wanted to. Since it's the middle of the day and all."

Ivan considered him before biting his bottom lip. "Alright," he said brightly and stepped away, lowering Gilbert back down to the ground.

"Great," Gilbert said, shuffling around a moment before finding a holster and gun, and ushering Ivan back toward the door, closing it behind them. "I'll need to talk to Ludwig first. How are the negotiations going?"

A quiet, startled sound came from up the hallway followed immediately by a rattle and a muffled curse as Toris spotted Ivan, backed away, and nearly upended a hall table. Ivan looked over automatically, his eyes almost instantly sliding away before he remembered the last time he had seen Toris and snapped his eyes back to him. "What?" he managed and Gilbert froze.

Toris paled, his hands fluttering for a moment before he put them behind his back, "I..."  His eyes darted from Ivan to Gilbert and back again, "I d-didn't realize you were, were here."

"Apparently I shouldn't come by unannounced," Ivan said, danger in his voice as he stepped forward.

"Ah, fuck," Gilbert said. "That's not what I meant."

Toris took an equal step back, managing to avoid the table this time, "Th-that's not necessary I-I'm sure. You're allies after, after all n-now."

"Hey now, no, you should announce when you come by," Gilbert said and grabbed the tail end of Ivan's scarf, tugging.

Toris' gaze darted quickly to Gilbert and he swallowed and backed another step, instinctively. "You never told me they came here," Ivan said, turning on Gilbert.

"Yeah? Well you never asked either," Gilbert said as Feliks poked his head around the corner, looking for Toris and froze.

Toris felt more than saw Feliks there and let his eyes slip briefly closed, silently cursing and hoping that Ivan hadn't noticed and that Feliks would actually have the sense to leave for once.

"And Feliks," Ivan said brightly. "I thought you wouldn't be far away."

"Um, fuck?" Feliks offered.

Toris took an instinctive step toward Feliks at that, swallowing but finally meeting Ivan's eyes before darting his gaze away again, "We should, we should be on our way, sir."

"Funny, you two should end up here," Ivan said and Gilbert tugged on his scarf again.

"You're, like, allies now," Feliks said, scowling and holding his ground.

"Allies who suddenly have insider knowledge of my territory," Ivan said and Gilbert yanked on the scarf, hard enough to had to turn around and look.

"Oh, stop it," Gilbert said. "You're the one who wanted them out, and they're here because of me and you know that—or you would if you actually thought about it. This isn't about betrayal, okay?"

Ivan stared at him and didn't smile. "They're still here," he said, quietly and Gilbert wrapped the scarf around his hand.

"Yeah, they're here," he said. "It was gonna come up soon, I promise. Frankly because we needed to talk about you letting them go."

"The Germans don't have useful knowledge of the territory and what little information they do have is outdated," Toris interrupted clearly before he thought about it, eyes widening when he realized what he had done and said and where and to whom.

Gilbert would have glared at him except that would have meant looking away from Ivan. "Indeed," Ivan said slowly. "Which is why the Germans offered you protection? Out of the goodness of their hearts?"

"No," Toris replied mutedly.  "It wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts.  But it also wasn't for information about the territory.  If it was we would have, would have kept running."

"You're being quiet," Ivan snapped as Feliks stared at Toris as though trying to figure out if what he said was true.

"I'm trying new things to not get myself killed," Feliks replied instantly and winced. "Look, like, Gilbert's back, you're allies. They don't fucking care about your territory anymore. Besides, with the alliance stuff you should be telling them whatever we know anyway."

"Not all of it," Ivan said, meeting his eyes and Feliks twitched back slightly.

"Ivan," Gilbert repeated, pulling on his scarf again. "You _already let them go_. This is just where they ended up, okay?"

Toris' right hand twitched toward Feliks as his left one started toward the scars on his own shoulder before he realized what he was doing and returned both to his sides.  His gaze was focused just shy of Ivan's eyes, knowing he had already said too much and done far more than he should in the current situation and risked making it rapidly worse.

"Um," Feliks said after a beat, still poised to run away. "You've said that twice now. What do you mean, _let go_?"

Ivan's eyes narrowed and Gilbert swallowed hard as another door in the hallway opened, Ludwig looking more at his papers than at where he was going. He only took a couple steps before glancing up and stopping. "... What is going on here?"

Roderich entered the hall at almost the same instant as Ludwig, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline, "Mr. Braginski?" Toris shifted back on his heels, looking poised to bolt when confronted with the presence of both Ivan and Ludwig.

"We were going to lunch," Gilbert said, giving up on Ivan's scarf and finally grabbing his arm.

Roderich considered the tableau before him and glanced at Ludwig before he nodded ever so slightly, "Have a good lunch, then, Gilbert."

Ludwig opened his mouth to protest and Gilbert glared at him as he pulled Ivan back. "We'll talk," he hissed, still pulling Ivan. "Okay? Let's go."

As soon as Gilbert managed to get Ivan out of the hall, Toris moved, gently brushing Feliks' arm and starting to leave as well. "Wait," Ludwig said. "What just happened?" Feliks ignored him, still scowling after where Gilbert and Ivan had left.

Toris drew a deep breath, his left hand twitched and all he wanted to do was get behind a closed door.  He didn't turn back to actually face Ludwig, unable to do so at the moment, "Ap-parently Ivan came to see Gilbert.  That, that would be my guess at least."

"And this?" Ludwig asked, gesturing at the two of them.

"He didn't know we were here, he's peeved as fuck about that, he's going on about betrayal because he's paranoid and what the _fuck_ did Gilbert mean?" Feliks snapped in one go.

Toris looked at Feliks, murmuring, "He said Ivan let us go.  He said it the day he got here, too."

"Yeah, and I sortta believed that _before_ I saw Ivan's face!"

Toris nodded once, darting a glance to Ludwig and Roderich, "Can we go?"

"Yes," Ludwig said, shrugging. "You're always free to go when you want to."

Toris glanced at him, not quite looking like he believed that before nodding and retreating with Feliks quickly.

Watching them, Ludwig turned back to Roderich. "Well, that was unexpected."

Roderich nodded very slightly, "I imagine we'll be hearing from Vash in short order about Ivan's appearance here.  Likely about Winter as well."

Ludwig's fingers twitched. "It was a matter of time before Bra—Ivan," he amended, trying to get in the habit after seeing the way the other man's eyes darkened slightly to be called his last name, and after Gilbert insisted it was too weird now. "Showed up at our house. But with those two—I'm not sure what I expected."

"I think I, perhaps stupidly, assumed he had some idea of where they had run to," Roderich admitted.  "We'll have to hope Gilbert can run some damage control for once, and see what can be drawn up for the official treaty."

"Gilbert's not that bad at damage control," Ludwig said, half offended on his behalf. "I mean, so long as he's not trying to make it worse."

Roderich paused and then nodded slightly, "Alright, that's true enough.  And he's every reason in the world to not want to make this worse."

"He loves Ivan," Ludwig said, as if he was still struggling with the idea. "He'll figure something out. You never saw him coax grandfather into doing what he needed."

"He really does," Roderich shook his head again.  "I hadn't realized how much he meant that when he first came back."

o-o-o

Winter trailed along behind Gilbert and Ivan, Gilbert still pulling the taller man after him. "You didn't tell me they were there," Ivan said, accusing and high pitched. "You hid it—"

"I wasn't hiding it," Gilbert said, and Ivan hadn't tried to pull away from him yet. "I just hadn't gotten around to explaining it." He stopped finally and turned to face Ivan, seeing the way his eyes were pitched and he was trying to smile. "Hey, hey. Come on. I was going to bring it up before the treaty was signed. They shouldn't have to hide in that House anymore, anyway."

"They know so much," Ivan said, quiet. "Feliks knows the casino, he knows the people who came and went and how it works. Toris lived in my House for years, they both know—"

"We aren't going to use that against you," Gilbert snapped, shifting slightly and Winter's attention was drawn to the gun strapped to his thigh. It was odd to him to see a weapon on Gilbert after so long in the Russian House. "We're allies now. Have you seen the treaty Roderich and Ludwig are drawing up?"

"No," Ivan said. "Not yet."

"It's the most binding you can get in this city," Gilbert said. "You let the both of them go, don't deny it. We held on to them for a while. But with an alliance between us, it's not going to matter."

"If you betray—" Ivan started and Gilbert hit him in the middle of his chest.

"We're not," he said and Ivan stilled. "Now, will you calm down so we can go to dinner?" Ivan hesitated a long moment before he finally nodded and Gilbert let out a long breath.

o-o-o

Sigurd barely slept for forty minutes before snapping back awake. He froze completely, trying to place where he was and what pressed against his chest. Realizing it was Eirik and he was simply in the other's room—the blankets felt different under his hands—he drew in a careful breath and slowly relaxed all his muscles again.

After a few minutes of lying there and breathing in Eirik's scent, looking around the room, and watching him sleep, his chest started to tighten and he pushed himself up, drawing his arm back as gently as he could from where it was under Eirik's waist. "Sh," he murmured when Eirik stirred. "Go back to sleep, I need to talk to Matthias."

Eirik blinked drowsily at him and rubbed his eyes with a murmured curse, sitting up enough to reach for his contacts’ case, "For the reports?"

"Yes," Sigurd said, watching him intently as he got up and went to take the contacts out before shaking his head and pushing himself out of the bed.

"You'll come back?" Eirik asked, already sliding back down to curl up under the blanket again.

"Yes," Sigurd said and leaned over, kissing Eirik's temple and smoothing his hand down his cheek. "I'll come back."

Eirik smiled faintly at that, humming in response as his eyes started to drift closed again, "Good."

"Go to sleep," Sigurd said again, letting his hand run over Eirik's cheek again before he forced himself up and toward the door. Watching through half-closed eyes until the door closed, Eirik settled in contentedly to return to sleep.

Outside, Sigurd tried to smooth his hair back down, pulling the clip he wore out and brushing his blond hair back with his fingers. "Damn," he said softly before striding down the stairs anyway.

Reaching Matthias' office he was relieved to see that he was there and not somewhere else in the house or out. Leaning against the doorframe, Sigurd frowned over at Matthias. “Did you finish those reports?”

“Yeah,” Matthias said, gesturing him into the office and holding out another sheaf of papers. “Sign these.”

Pausing, Sigurd stepped into the office, one hand coming up to tug on the odd curl at the base of his hairline. He accepted the papers with his other hand, figuring they were more write ups and frowned. When he remained silent, Matthias finally looked back up from where he was using an inkwell pen to scratch more notes on an official looking piece of paper. “What?”

“These are heirship papers,” Sigurd said, voice quiet because he felt like something was falling apart.

“Exactly,” Matthias said. “Sign them.”

Dropping the papers, Sigurd braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Why are you asking me to sign heirship papers?”

“Because every House should have an heir,” Matthias said. “It might as well be official, no matter how small we are. It’s better—”

“It’s better to have an heir if the Head of a House dies,” Sigurd finished. “Yes, I know. But you’re not intending to die anytime soon are you?" Fury was hidden deep in his eyes though his expression barely changed.

Matthias blinked before leaning back, steepling his fingers. “No, I’m not intending to die, what stupid kind of question is that? Who intends to die in this city? But the fact is, it can happen. And if it does you need to sign those damn papers. No one would contest you, signed or not, but sometimes the other Houses make a fuss about protocol and it’s safer for us all if you just shut up and do as you’re told.”

Sigurd drummed his finger tips on the table. “Why not Berwald?”

“Are you being daft on purpose now?” Matthias asked, arching a brow. “Guards are never the heirs. They’re supposed to die before the Head,” and they both stopped, Matthias’ mouth twisting unhappily. “Guards aren’t heirs,” he said after clearing his throat. “Are you going to ask about Tino and Eirik too? Because you should have known it was always going to be you. Is there actually a reason you’re protesting or are you stalling for another reason?”

Jaw working, Sigurd finally shook his head. “This is happening now because of those reports, isn’t it?”

Matthias shrugged, spreading his arms out. “What better time than the present? If something is happening, I’d rather know… that they’re going to be taken care of. And you’re best at that.”

“Not sure I’m best at anything,” Sigurd said but he picked the papers back up again, reading the cramped lines which meant Matthias was trying to make his handwriting proper and official.

Laughing, Matthias just shook his head. “Oh come on, Sigurd. You and me. We’ve been in this together a long time. With the others, sure, but you’re the one who reads me reports and knows our intelligence network and has contacts in the other Houses, even if you are a standoffish bastard, and can keep a cool head. Eirik can’t keep a cool head. Even Tino can’t sometimes.”

“You can’t, most times,” Sigurd said, reaching the last page and swallowing hard.

“Come on,” Matthias said after a beat. “This isn’t a promise I’m going to get killed. Just a guarantee in case I do.”

“I’d still rather not think about it,” Sigurd said, holding his hand out for the pen, which Matthias dropped into his hand without removing his gaze from Sigurd’s face. Signing the papers, Sigurd hesitated before handing them back.

“Thanks,” Matthias said brightly, rising almost instantly to file them.

“I feel sick,” Sigurd said, shaking his head slightly and looking away.

“Hey,” Matthias said. “Remember the ‘I’m not really going to die’ thing?” He stopped and turned around, considering Sigurd with a serious expression.

“I’d still really rather not think about it,” Sigurd replied. “What do you want to do about those reports?”

For a moment, Matthias frowned before he slid behind his desk again, spreading out some papers and gesturing Sigurd around to look over his shoulder.

A short while later, there was a quiet tap against the doorframe, Berwald standing there watching the other two men. Sigurd looked up first, hands braced on the back of Matthias' chair and on the desk, his hair still looking finger-combed and decidedly rumpled. After finishing the word he had been writing down, Matthias looked up with a slow smile. "Hey."

Berwald's lips twitched very faintly to return the smile and he nodded, stepping into the office and nodding toward the notes, "Reports?"

"Yeah," Matthias said, folding his hands and watching Berwald. Sigurd leaned back and compulsively tried to smooth his hair again. He should have taken the time to run a brush through it.

Berwald's gaze drifted to Sigurd briefly before he looked back to Matthias, "'Nything I need t' know yet?"

"Made him sign the heirship papers," Matthias said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Sigurd, who scowled down at him, the barest twitch of his mouth.

"There's something weird going on," Sigurd said. "But we don't know what yet, or if it's too concerning."

"Heirship?" Berwald paused, glancing between them before focusing on Matthias again.

"It was time," Matthias shrugged, brushing it off as much as he didn't dare to when he was convincing Sigurd to actually sign the papers.

A muscle in Berwald's jaw twitched slightly at that, "B'cause of th' reports?"

Matthias' nose wrinkled but before he could speak Sigurd did. "Yes," he said and Matthias turned around to glare at him.

"S'a good choice," Berwald said, looking to Sigurd.  His blue eyes flicked back to Matthias, "You're expectin' more trouble soon."

"The Russians may have simmered down," Matthias said. "But that doesn't mean something else isn't going to flare up."

Berwald drew a deep breath, finally crossing to the desk, "Most likely threat?"

"Asians and English," Matthias said. "Latins and Romans finally losing their shit at each other. And, this," he said and tapped where Sigurd had drawn in a few question marks and arrows near the docks. "We don't know what this is."

Berwald nodded, contemplating the most concerning of that list, and disliking the fact that they didn't have information on what was happening near the docks, "Those Houses're always ready t' go at each other."

"Which is why it's best to be prepared," Matthias said. "Anything could start off another war."

"But it might not," Sigurd said, fingers tapping on the back of Matthias' chair.

"This though," Berwald shook his head as he rested a fingertip over the marks Sigurd had made by the docks.  "Not good.  We c'n guess 'bout th' other Houses."

"I'll look more into it," Sigurd promised.

Berwald nodded very slightly before fixing Matthias with a look, "No goin' out alone."

"What, you're not telling that to Sigurd," Matthias protested.

"Sigurd doesn' go out on his own s’much," Berwald said.

Sigurd sighed as Matthias huffed. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two to—whatever you're doing," Sigurd said and stepped toward the door.

Berwald straightened from where he hadn't realized he'd been leaning over the desk toward Matthias, glancing at Sigurd and speaking again before he could reach the door, "You 'n' Eirik?"

Sigurd froze, spine snapping to attention before he slowly turned. "Yes?"

"How long?" Berwald asked, meeting his gaze steadily.

"A," he started and frowned. "No. Two weeks? I suppose."

He considered that for a moment, and then nodded, "Good."

"Good?" Sigurd blinked in surprise and even Matthias tilted his head back to consider Berwald.

Berwald shrugged, "Not bad."  He glanced between them, "Should it be?"

"I—you were looking at us—" and Sigurd clicked his jaw shut.

"Y' were readin' my book," Berwald said.

"Well, yes," Sigurd allowed. "But even before that..."

Berwald blinked at him, "Y' family."  He glanced toward Matthias, "So're we."  He tried to figure out how best to convey what he was thinking and finally settled for another very slight shrug, "Glass houses."

"Yeah but you aren't confirmed brothers," Sigurd said, the closest to blurting something out he ever got.

"So?"  A crease appeared between his eyebrows, as he focused on forming exactly what he wanted to say, "Were raised like we were."

"Yeah well he did a blood test," Sigurd said, unsure why he was pressing the issue.

"Does it matter t' you?  Or him?"

"It worried him enough to check," Sigurd said, shifting his shoulders back.

Elbows on the desk and his fingers steepled, Matthias considered him. "Say, Sigurd," he said after a beat. "This is what you want, right?"

"What?" Sigurd turned to stare at him. "What are you—of course this... why would I be doing it if it wasn't what I wanted?"

"Then why’s it matter if y' blood?" Berwald asked quietly.

"It mattered enough to him," Sigurd said, looking unhappy before turning back to Matthias. "Now. What did _you_ mean?"

"I meant," Matthias said, frowning. "That I wanted to know why you're doing this? With Eirik. If it's what you really want or if you're humoring him."

"Humoring him?" Sigurd repeated and he sounded far from amused.

"Whether you actually want him and to be in a sexual relationship with him, or if he wants that and you've decided to more or less go along with it," Matthias said, hands under his chin and voice level. Sigurd opened his mouth and closed it again so Matthias continued. "Jesus Christ, Sigurd, the two of you are like a pair of baby ducks. You imprinted on each other when young—"

"Geese," Sigurd cut him off. "You're thinking of baby geese and they only imprint on their mothers."

Matthias laughed, shaking his head. "Geese, ducks, if you were birds that could fly south for the winter. Besides, you didn't have a mother so you mutually imprinted on another baby goose like yourself. The point is, you'd do anything for him and he loves you. But do you actually want this?"

Berwald looked at Matthias and then back to Sigurd and nodded slightly, "Wh't he said."

"Oh is that what you were trying to say earlier?" Sigurd asked and fell silent as the other two men continued to stare at him. "What? Are you worried about me or him?"

"Both," Berwald answered.  "You more.  Y' don' talk."

"He's young, he's not all that impressionable," Matthias shrugged. "You're the one who'd walk himself off a cliff to keep Eirik safe. Just want to make sure you're walking off the right cliff."

"I'm not sure walking off a cliff is what I'd compare this too," Sigurd said.

"Are you done avoiding the question yet?" Matthias asked.

"You would know all about that," Sigurd snapped, temper flaring behind his eyes for a second before he settled back down. "It's complicated, is all," he said finally.

"Y' need someone t' listen?" Berwald offered quietly.

Sigurd swallowed before running a hand through his hair, brushing against the clip and making the ends stand out in static just a little bit more. "I've always loved and adored him. I just never thought about that it could be... something else with all that."

"An' y'alright with it bein' somethin' else?" Berwald asked.

"It," he frowned. "Yes," he said finally, once he was certain and Matthias carefully kept himself quiet. "I hadn't realized it could be but—but now it's here I'm still adjusting but," he shrugged. "I like it. I like the things he says and the touching and kissing was nice." He blew out a breath, smoothing the ends of his hair down again. "We never were normal about things anyway."

Matthias finally allowed himself to laugh. "I picked you up one night because you fell asleep outside his door. Yeah, normal about these things was just never you."

Berwald's lips twitched into a faint smile, "Normal's not big in th' House."

"I suppose not," Sigurd said but squared his shoulders and looked both of them in the eyes. "I do want this. I just am still adjusting to it."

Berwald nodded once at that, "If y' need someone t' listen."

"Thanks," Sigurd said, a little reluctantly. "And you two are—?"

"We're good," Matthias said, though he turned his head to check that with Berwald.

Berwald nodded once, "We're good."

"Good," Sigurd said, a note of wry sarcasm in his voice. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to ... go back now."

Berwald nodded very slightly, already turning back toward Matthias.

For a moment Sigurd considered their body language before slipping back out of the room and upstairs, stopping by his own room only long enough to find lounge clothes and carrying that with him into Eirik's room.

Eirik blinked himself awake when Sigurd entered, sitting up and stretching before pushing the blanket back, "You came back."

"I said I would," Sigurd said and hesitated by the door.

Eirik offered him a smile as he got up and went to his dresser to dig out something more comfortable than the dark jeans he was wearing, "I know.  You're back sooner than I thought, though."

"Really?" Sigurd asked, hesitating again before he pulled his shirt off, folding it carefully and watching Eirik's bare back as he moved. "It felt longer, I suppose, when one's talking to Matthias."

"Well, and I was dozing or asleep for most of it," Eirik glanced at him from the corner of his eye and swallowed.

"Would you rather do something else?" Sigurd asked, even though he was making every indication possible that he wanted to sleep again.

Eirik shook his head, "No.  I mean, unless you do."

"No," Sigurd said, pausing before kicking off his pants. "I haven't slept in a week."

"I hope you're exaggerating," Eirik said, shimmying out of the jeans he had been wearing and pulling on a pair of sweats.

"Somewhat," Sigurd said. "I haven't been sleeping well, I suppose I could say."

Digging out a soft t-shirt and pulling it over his head, Eirik finally turned around again, "Why?"

Sigurd caught his frown when Eirik turned around and smoothed his face out. "I've been worried. Different things."

Eirik moved over to him, "Anything you want to talk about?"

Sigurd's fingers moved automatically to bury in Eirik's hair once he was within reach. "Just what we spoke about earlier, I think. The unknown people. This. Figuring it out."

Eirik nodded slightly, lacing his fingers together behind Sigurd's neck, "Alright.  Shall we try to sleep then?  See if you sleep any better tonight?"

"Yes," he said and pulled Eirik forward until he could kiss him. Eirik hummed into the kiss, stretching up on his tiptoes and parting his lips under Sigurd's. "You put a shirt back on," Sigurd said, tips of his fingers slipping past the hem of the shirt.

Eirik blinked at him for a moment, arching very slightly at the touch, "I could take it off again if you like."

Sigurd hummed, fingers still tracing along the top of Eirik's pants. "I suppose it can stay for now."

Eirik blushed at the sound he made in response to that touch, "If you're sure."

"Not really," Sigurd laughed, pressing his nose against Eirik's hair. He hadn't bothered to put a shirt on. "This is new to me," he said after a beat.

Leaning back in the embrace, Eirik twisted and quickly pulled the shirt off, "Well, it can stay off just as easily."  He brushed a thumb along Sigurd's jawline, "New's good?"

"Yes," he said. "And you?" he asked softly. "You're happy with this?"

Eirik nodded, "Yes.  Very."

"It's just, Matthias called us two baby geese who imprinted on each other," Sigurd said, hesitating before his hands came back to Eirik's waist. "That'd we'd do anything for each other. He thought that was what this was..."

"We would do anything for each other," Eirik agreed, pausing. "But that's not what this is.  Not for me."

"Good," Sigurd said and leaned down again to kiss him, fingers dragging first up then down on his skin. Eirik leaned into the kiss, his back arching at the touch as his hands moved to tangle in Sigurd's hair. "Come on," Sigurd said, trying not to be distracted by the touch of their skin in ways that had been blocked by his shirt earlier. "Back to bed."

Eirik hummed, turning them around and backing toward the bed without letting go of Sigurd. Sigurd chuckled, a low sound deep in his chest. "Darling brother," he said. "You should have been a dancer."

Eirik shook his head, but couldn't help a grin spreading across his lips, "I can't keep a beat."

"Really?" Sigurd asked, stepping forward and back as he hummed a few bars.

Eirik laughed before tangling their legs together and falling back onto the bed, pulling Sigurd with him. Sigurd caught himself on top of Eirik, shifting his shoulders slightly. Eirik arched his neck up and kissed Sigurd lightly.

Sigurd hummed, pressing down into the kiss. "It's still pretty early to go to sleep."

Eirik offered him a crooked smile at that, "Yeah, it is, isn't it."

Tilting his head Sigurd considered him before rolling over to his side and tugging Eirik against his chest. "Oh well. It's nice to be... here."

Eirik curled in closer, tucking his head under Sigurd's chin, "I'm glad.  I like, I like having you here."

"Well, and I suppose it's payback for the time you slept in my bed," Sigurd said. "Now I can do the same."

"We could call it that, yeah," Eirik said, chuckling.

Sigurd hummed again, smoothing his hair back from his face. "Matthias had me sign heirship papers," he said before he could stop it, the worry too close to the surface.

Eirik propped himself up on one elbow abruptly, looking at Sigurd wide-eyed, "He what?"

Sigurd dragged him back down against his chest. "Don't panic, it's not that unusual."

"Considering that you just got in vague and slightly threatening reports, it's alarming."

Sighing, Sigurd traced his fingers along the top of Eirik's spine. "He said it was just because he'd rather be safe than not, that it was a matter of time and he doesn't plan on dying. But," he shook his head, hair gaining static from the pillowcase. "I don't know."

Curling closer again, Eirik sighed, "What does it mean for you?"

"I don't know yet," he said. "I've already all but been. Officially though—in some ways it's a safer position to be in. There are rules that are supposed to govern so we can all get money and rule our own territory. That includes not going after heirs. In practice though... it's less safe."

Tucking his head under Sigurd's chin again, Eirik made an unhappy sound, "You'll be extra careful, right?"

"Was I not planning on being careful before?" Sigurd asked, almost a laugh. "Of course I'll be careful."

" _More_ careful," Eirik insisted quietly, firmly, knowing he was being a bit ridiculous as Sigurd was always careful to the best of his knowledge.

"Yes," Sigurd agreed, running his fingers along the backs of Eirik's ears. "I'll be even more careful."

Eirik hummed at the touch, moving to kiss Sigurd's collarbone, "Good."

"You're going to worry anyway, aren't you?" Sigurd asked, shifting slightly at the touch.

"It's a habit I'm not ready to break yet," Eirik agreed, lips still brushing Sigurd's skin.

Shifting, Sigurd ran his hand up and down the back of Eirik's head. "We're not going to be suddenly attacked. I'm not going to be killed, we're going to be okay. I wouldn't be so stupid as to hurt myself with—with this happening."

"I know.  But come on, I've been worrying about you for years, I just haven't ever actually expressed it."

"Maybe you should have," Sigurd said softly, still trying to figure out what to do with so much of Eirik's skin.

Eirik ran his fingers down Sigurd's side and nodded very slightly, "I really should have."

"We'll be fine," Sigurd said, pulling his face back up for a kiss and focusing on the taste of him and the heat and not what felt like a disproportionate reaction to the other's touch. Eirik rested his hand over Sigurd's heart, feeling it beat underneath his palm as he returned the kiss and parted his lips under Sigurd's. "It won't change much," Sigurd assured him.

"Which is a large reason why I'm just worrying and not panicking," Eirik said.

Sigurd laughed again, a barely there sound. "In fact, I think it means if I go out and Matthias isn't, then Berwald is supposed to cover my back."

That earned a relieved huff, "Oh thank God."

"We rarely go out alone," Sigurd said, looking at the wall beyond his shoulder.

"Most of my worries have no real foundation in fact," Eirik admitted, resting his head against Sigurd's chest.

"Besides," he said with a shrug. "People like keeping us around as a warning for what could happen to them. Which is..." he blew a breath out. "Patronizing and bothersome. But the fact keeps us safe too."

"Patronizing or not, if it keeps us alive I'm good with it," Eirik sighed, shaking his head and drawing back enough to shift up and kiss Sigurd again.

"You've really grown to like this kissing thing, haven't you?"

"Mhm," Eirik nodded, pressing a kiss to Sigurd's jaw, "Do you mind?"

"No," he said but sounded surprised. "I like it."

Eirik's eyebrows rose slightly, "You didn't expect to?"

He shrugged slightly. "I didn't really before. I mean, kissing wasn't too bad, but anything else and," he shrugged again.

"Anything else isn't really your thing?" Eirik guessed, not quite sure how he felt about that, but willing to accommodate it if that's what needed to happen.

"It wasn't," Sigurd said, twining their legs together and pulling Eirik tighter. "I'm starting to think I just missed something."

"If, if there's something that makes you uncomfortable about this you'll tell me, right?"  Eirik verified.

"Yeah," he said. "And you'll do the same," he said, as a statement rather than a question.

Eirik nodded, "Yeah, of course."

"Then we'll figure it out," he said and kissed Eirik as hard as he could.

o-o-o

Matthew hesitated outside of Alfred's bedroom door, fighting with himself for nearly a full two minutes before he finally knocked on the closed door, thinking of the glass fox that was sitting on his dresser, "Al?"

"Yeah?" Alfred asked, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "Come in."

Stepping inside and closing the door again, Matthew drew a deep breath and moved away from the door, "I need a favor."

"A favor?" he asked, not sitting up yet.

"Yeah," Matthew hovered at the bedside, unsure about sitting down and all in all looking out of his depth and a bit lost.

Alfred caught sight of his face and pushed himself up, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed. "No, what's up?"

"God, you are going to get years of mileage out of this," Matthew muttered, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the opposite elbow—a nervous tic he'd had since he was seven and that he had pretty well broken himself of in the previous two years.  "I want to get in contact with Leon but I don't have any way to do so."

Alfred blinked once at him before biting back his smile. "Alright. I can't promise much but I could probably ask Kiku."

Matthew offered him a smile, though he looked a little ill, "Thanks, Al."

Deciding to tease him about it later, Alfred shrugged. "He sortta messed you up, didn't he? Mentally I mean. In a good way."

"I don't know if there is a good way to be mentally messed up," Matthew huffed out.  "But, yeah, I guess so."

"Sure there is," Alfred shrugged. "Emotions always mess people up."

"I'm not sure I consider that good."

"Honestly?" Alfred laughed. "Aren't I the one who’s supposed to react badly to emotions? Didn't you call it my ew, emotions reaction?"

Matthew offered him a wry smile, "I don't like my mind being messed with, though."

Alfred shrugged. "Then you shouldn't have teased me so much."

"Okay, that's probably true," Matthew answered after a moment.  "Thank you for this, Al."

"Not sure it's really something to thank me for," Alfred shrugged. "But you really like him?"

Matthew nodded, "I've had time to think, and yeah I really do."

"You've only seen him a couple times recently," Alfred pointed out, not that he had been one to talk when he started things with Kiku.

"Doesn't mean I can't like him.  I’m, I'm surprised about this too, but it's the best way to put it really."

"This is more than a generalized like, isn't it?" Alfred asked, watching him.

Matthew offered him a look over the top of his glasses, "I thought I'd ask you to help me contact him and put us both at risk because he's just generally likeable.  Which isn't to say he might not be, but yes it's more than just a generalized like."

"I meant," he started and shrugged. "You know. I like someone and want to be around them and I want to kiss and hold them too."

"It's the second," his brother said quietly.

Alfred nodded. "Thought it might be. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And if you need to talk about it..."

He offered a faint smile, "Thanks, Al."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved a hand, uncomfortable. "It's not—I mean, okay, it's crazy but, that's what brotherly support is for, right?"

Matthew laughed quietly, "Supposedly.  Don't worry, I won't make it too much of a habit."

"I would really hope not," Alfred said, wrinkling his nose.

That garnered a genuine smile and laugh, "I promise."

"I'll see what I can do about getting you at least his number, or a meeting place or something," Alfred said. "I can't promise much beyond that, you'll have to figure out your own system of like, smoke signals or something."

"I think those would be noticed, but we'll figure something out," Matthew agreed.

"You gotta be serious about it," Alfred said, watching him.

"When was the last time you knew me to do something I wasn't serious about?" Matthew asked, meeting his brother's eyes steadily.

Alfred shrugged. "It's not outside the realm of the possible."

"I _am_ serious about this."

"Then I'll see what I can work out," he said with a faint smile, far from his usual cocky grin.

Matthew offered him another smile, "If I thank you again you're going to get awkward, aren't you?"

"Oh hell yeah," Alfred said. "Please don't do it."

"Alright I won't."  Matthew started for the door, pausing before he left, "If you ever need anything..."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred shook his head. "I get it." Matthew offered him another smile before slipping out, closing the door behind himself.


	34. We're Pretty Fucking Stupid, Huh?

Yao sat with his hands folded over his lap, almost hidden under his sleeves as he looked at the reports spread around him before looking back up at Kiku. "The English have requested another meeting," he said. "Like we had in the past, apparently specifically you and their heir as you seem to have a working relationship."

Kiku's eyebrows twitched upward ever so slightly, "And what response are we giving to them?"

"It would not hurt to understand better their motivation," Yao said. "And you and he seemed capable of not causing a war. But someone else will need to go with you, I do not trust a one-on-one meeting."

His heir nodded once, barely a dip of his chin, "As you say.  Have they requested a meeting location?"

"Not yet," Yao said and looked over when Leon made a tiny motion forward. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Leon shook his head, sinking further back where he sat next to Sheng.

"Surely you were not about to volunteer to accompany Kiku?" Yao asked, tilting his head slightly and considering him.

Leon shrugged, looking unconcerned. "Why would I?" he asked.

Kiku's eyes flicked to Leon and then back to Yao, ignoring the way that Sheng had put a hand on Leon's arm when the teen leaned forward, "Who are you thinking to send with me?"

"Who would you prefer?" Yao asked, leaning back slightly.

Kiku bit back his arguments in favor of Leon, knowing how that could look, "Mei.  She has a sharp mind, and is highly attentive to her surroundings.  She would be the logical choice."

Yao nodded. "And unlikely to fight with the heir," he said and smiled. "Very well." Mei carefully kept her hands in her lap, her glance toward Kiku not as sharp as she wanted it to be.

Inclining his head at that decision, Kiku glanced toward Mei and then back to Yao, "Are you and their Head arranging the location, or do you wish the heir and I to do so?"

"We shall," Yao said. "I would prefer to know exactly where it will be to safeguard against betrayal."

Leon opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. Kiku blinked once at Yao before nodding, "Of course.  I suppose it will be soon, then?  To offer them less chance to plan any sort of double-cross?"

"Yes," he said with a nod. "I will let you know."

Kiku nodded once, glancing at Mei briefly again, "We will be ready whenever you think it best."

"Good," he said and waved them out of the room and the nightly meeting after dinner. "Leon, a word." Leon stopped from where he had been standing and sat back down. Kiku managed not to stop in the doorway, though Sheng paused, glancing back at Leon for a moment before slipping out.

Yao leaned forward slightly and Leon watched him, his hands folded on his lap in a position remarkably similar to Yao's usual pose. "I want to make sure," Yao said. "That you have no leftover fondness for the English House. We are, after all, in an awkward position with them and I would hate to see divided loyalties."

"Why would I have any? They abandoned me," Leon said and Yao seemed to frown. "From their perspective, anyway, I was not worth fighting for," he shrugged. "I have a home here."

"You wanted to meet with them," Yao said.

Leon blinked before shrugging again. "Perhaps so. But there is no loyalty to them anymore."

Yao watched him a long moment before nodding. "Very well."

Rising quickly, Leon sketched a bow before slipping out the door.

Kiku was waiting outside of Leon's bedroom door for him, "There is a building I want to take some pictures of in the setting sun's light, would you mind coming with me?"

Leon blinked, looking around for Sheng. "Sure."

Kiku nodded slightly, heading for the front door and waiting until they were a couple of blocks from the house before speaking again, "To begin with, I am sorry for how our last conversation out of the house went."

Leon shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge it or that he had confronted Arthur. "It's fine."

"I am not sure if the next thing I have to say will make things better or worse, it will certainly complicate them," Kiku said, angling his camera to take a couple of pictures of the building they were in front of.

Taking a breath, Leon looked over. "Then you might as well say it."

"Matthew wants a way to get in contact with you," Kiku said, still focused through his camera lens.

Leon stumbled, coming to a halt. "What?"

Kiku drew a deep breath and finally lowered the camera, "Alfred contacted me just before dinner.  Matthew wants a way to get in contact with you.  I told Alfred I would pass along the request."

"But," Leon stopped. "That... what sort of way?"

"Alfred said that he had told Matthew that he would try to get either your number or a meeting place and everything after that is up to the two of you," Kiku said.

"That's fair," Leon said after a beat.

"Is this something you want to do?" Kiku asked, watching Leon from the corner of his eye.

"It's unexpected," he said. "I hadn't—I hadn't had time to think about it."

"Well, think about it.  You do not have to give an answer tonight."

"Do you have his number?" Leon asked after a beat.

Kiku withdrew his burner phone, texting the request for Matthew's number, "I should in a moment."

"How often do you replace that?" Leon asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Three days after his first text or call to the new phone.  Sometimes as long as five, but usually three."  He paused, "It is an expensive method."

"You forgot when you were shot though," Leon said. "And it was found."

Kiku nodded, "I had also not hidden it well that time.  There is also a risk as to when it might go off."

"It's not a very elegant system in the end, is it?" Leon asked, looking over.

"No, it really is not," Kiku agreed.  "But it is what we have chosen to use."

Stretching his arms up, Leon shook his head. "I suppose," he said finally. "To each their own. But Yao already suspects me much more than he does you."

Kiku's phone buzzed and he checked it, "I have his number here, if you want it."

Leon held a hand out. "Can I see it?" Pausing for a moment, Kiku handed the phone over. Leon scanned the number, committing it to memory before handing it back over. "I'd say you could delete it but if it's a burner phone there's probably no great need."

Kiku erased the text regardless, before taking a few more pictures of the buildings they were passing, "You are actually considering this?"

"I'm considering it," he allowed. "I'm not sure I want to act on it."

"I would recommend having ideas for contact if you decide to do anything.  As you said, Yao suspects you more than he does me," Kiku murmured.

"I'm thinking about it," Leon said, looking over. "You don't look any more stressed than you did last year."

"I am glad of that, but also surprised because I feel far more stressed."

"I meant," Leon stopped and tried again. "How are you handling it? It appears to be well enough except when Mei found your phone but..."

"I constantly worry that we will be found out, and far more people know about us than either of us are comfortable with.  It was one thing when it was just us, but now there is you and Mei, and Matthew and Liam," Kiku sighed.  "I have been sleeping less since this started, worrying over being found out."

"Is it worth it?" Leon asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes," Kiku answered without hesitation.

Leon considered him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright," he said. "Well, at any rate, you handle it well on the outside."

Kiku's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, "Thank you.  Now I am going to have to meet him with Mei there and that could be....thrilling."

"At least she knows about it," Leon said. "It could be Sheng or Yong Soo."

"Oh that would be a disaster," Kiku murmured.

"Mei has a good head on her shoulders," Leon said, looking around at the buildings and running Matthew's phone number forward and backward in his head.

"She does.  She is also not happy with me at the moment," Kiku replied, quietly.

"And you're going to meet the person that's made her not happy," Leon said with a tiny smile. "Good luck."

Kiku let out a quiet huff of breath that could be laughter, "Thank you.  I expect that I will need it."

"Should we go back?" Leon asked after a beat.

He sighed and nodded, taking one last picture, "Yes."

"You've made it this far," Leon said, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Kiku dipped his chin in a brief nod, "We have."

"I talked to Arthur," Leon said suddenly, unsure why he was admitting that.

Kiku froze at that, turning his head to look at Leon, "You did?"

"You and Matthew and Alfred were all right apparently," he said, shaking his head.

"When did this happen?  Where?" Kiku watched the teen carefully.

"I went looking for him," Leon said. "I was _angry,_ all right?"

"And he told you we were right?"  Kiku looked away from Leon in the direction they were walking again.

"More or less," he said, looking down. "That he wouldn't have traded me if he could help it." He paused. "I ran into Patel too."

"Patel?  Where was this?"

Leon waved a hand. "While I was with Arthur." He didn't want to be more specific.

"An odd time to encounter him," Kiku murmured.

"Yes, well, Arthur was quite surprised as well," Leon said. "I didn't realize there was history there."

Kiku blinked once at that, "Nor had I."

"I wonder if we'll live long enough for people to say that about us," Leon said and winced at himself.

"I hope so," Kiku responded simply.

Leon looked down. "Not sure you'd want that history though," he said softly.

"I want none of the history that those who run this city have," Kiku admitted after a moment.

"You want to do better?" Leon asked, looking over with a ghost of a smile.

Kiku nodded, "Different at least.  Maybe different will mean better this time."

"Perhaps," Leon said, like he didn't believe it and fell silent until they reached the house. "I hope your pictures turn out well," he said and turned away quickly.

o-o-o

Sheng was leaning on the wall outside of Leon's room, waiting for him, "Hey there."

Leon almost missed the next step, so focused on his thoughts he hadn't been looking up. "Oh. Hello."

Pushing off the wall, Sheng looked him over, "Have a good walk with Kiku?"

"He likes having people when he takes his photos," Leon shrugged, unlocking the door to his room and gesturing Sheng inside though it would be futile to try and bar him from coming in.

Sheng stepped inside, "Smart, really.  Though you keep coming back in a mood from those walks."

"He's not a stimulating conversationalist," Leon replied snidely.

"Neither are you," Sheng shot back with a smile.

"No, which is probably why we shouldn't be left on our own," Leon said, making sure the door was closed behind them.

"Just be careful Yao doesn't start getting suspicious.  Or...more than he usually is."

"We can't even be friends with ourselves now?" Leon asked. "What's there to be suspicious over?"

"It's Yao.  And you've been spending a lot of time with his heir," Sheng shrugged.  "I don't know."

"I'd rather he think I wanted to go to the meet because I like Kiku than hold over fondness for the English House," Leon shrugged, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Sheng paused at that, "Why do you want to go to that meet?"

"I didn't really," he said, rolling his shoulders. "It was a knee jerk reaction—alright, I did a little. It's been a long time is all."

Tapping his fingers on his thigh, Sheng considered for a moment and then nodded, "You sure it wouldn't just make it harder to see people from there?"

"Physically harder or emotionally?" Leon asked after blinking.

"The second."

Leon shrugged. "Of course it would make it harder. With everything that's going on it would be stupid to get involved—though Yao is perhaps right in assuming I already am."

Sheng blinked at him for a moment before moving over and sitting down on the floor next to the bed, his voice lowering, "How involved is involved?"

"What do you mean?" Leon blinked down at him. "How much am I or how much is it assumed I am?"

"How much are you?  If Yao's right in assuming you already are," Sheng said, tipping his head back to look up at Leon.

"He assumes because I was once part of their House," Leon snapped.

"You're the one who said he might be right, I was just asking," Sheng said, holding his hands up.

"I," Leon frowned. "Did I?" He shook his head slightly.

"You did," he nodded ever so slightly.

"They were the people I grew up with was all," Leon said, looking away.

Sheng didn't look like he believed that, but he shrugged, figuring it was better not to ask for things he probably didn't want an honest answer to, "So, I didn't think you really liked Kiku."

"I used not to," he said and then suppressed a wince. "He has hidden depths apparently. And it's nice to have an excuse to leave the house."

"You've really got to find another excuse that doesn't involve following Kiku around.  Hidden depths or not you keep coming back in a bad mood," Sheng said, shaking his head.

"Maybe I like being in a bad mood."

That earned raised eyebrows, "You _like_ being in bad moods?"  Sheng offered Leon a grin at that, "Well, in that case, don't let me stop you."

"Yes, in fact, I am most pleased when I feel miserable," Leon said, throwing himself backward on his bed. "Totally happy with being unhappy."

"You are such a teenager sometimes.  You know that, right?"

"Yes, well, I'm seventeen, so still safely within my teenage years," Leon said. "Was it the claim to being happy being unhappy or the pouty collapse on the bed that did that?"

"Both, mostly the second," Sheng said with a grin.

"Ugh," Leon said, looking at the ceiling. "So, have Braginski's goons attacked you recently?"

"So far I've managed to avoid being attacked recently," Sheng said.  "I mean, I'm not in debt right now, so that helps....had a run of passable luck last time I was there."

"Was that engineered luck or actual luck?" Leon asked. "Because there is a difference."

"Believe it or not, I'm not suicidal."

"Sometimes I don't believe you," Leon said, pushing himself up to level Sheng with a look.

"Okay, there was a very little bit of engineering.  But not much."

"When you die I'm not crying at your funeral," Leon drawled.

"Liar," Sheng shot back with a smile.  "I won't get killed.  I end up in debt because I don't engineer much."

"You think I'm the sort to ever cry?" Leon asked.

"No, good point.  It's the sentiment though."

"Yeah, well, at the moment I'm not much given to feeling overly sentimental about you either," Leon said, flopping back down.

Sheng shook his head, still grinning, "Screw you too then.  Alright, I'll leave you to living it up as a teenager then."

"Do you think Yao would really think I was up to something?" Leon asked, not looking at him.

"I think he always thinks you're up to something, but I think he thinks that about all of us. So, no more than he usually does."

"Alright, good," he said.

Sheng looked him over for a long moment and then nodded, "Yeah, good.  Any other out of the blue worries to ask about?"

"It wasn't out of the blue, it was a return to an earlier topic and no," Leon said and then obviously hesitated.

Pausing, Sheng moved over to sit on the edge of Leon's bed, dropping his voice so it was only just audible, "Really, what is it?"

Leon tensed, looking at the ceiling. "I—may have run into someone."

"What sort of someone?"

"You should really be able to guess that at this point," Leon said, still staring at the ceiling.

Sheng let out a low whistle, "Which one?"

"The younger nephew," Leon said after another hesitation.

"When?"

"When Kiku got shot," Leon said. "It was an accident, I think."

Sheng tilted his head on one side, considering Leon for a moment, "Does, God this is a crazy question, but does Kiku know you ran into him?"

Leon blinked at him. "Um. Why would that matter?"

"I don't know."  He paused, thinking, "Probably doesn't.  Guess you've just been out with him a lot for not having liked him much before is all."

"And you think that has something to do with it?" Leon demanded and forced a laugh because he felt a little sick.

"What?  No.  I mean, does it?  I just, okay I think I've completely misinterpreted your sudden time spent with Kiku, haven't I?"

"You're going to have to tell me how you were interpreting it begin with and now your new thoughts on it," Leon said dryly.

"Well, I mean, the amount of time you're spending together, some might accuse him of cradle robbing.  But you're not acting like you got caught out at that, so I'm not sure what option two is," Sheng said, watching Leon.

"I'm seven—oh," he blinked. "I suppose that is technically cradle robbing. So when you asked if he knew about the run-in, what, you were worried about jealousy?"

"Just seems like the sort of thing someone you're seeing should know about, what with it being maybe bad for your health, y'know?"

"Considering he was shot at the time?" Leon asked wryly.

"Yeah, because of a run-in with some people from that House," Sheng reminded.

"It's ironic is all," Leon asked, wondering if he could start convincing people he was in a relationship with Kiku. Better they believe that than the truth.

Sheng's eyebrows rose, "That's one way of putting it."

"I have a way with very few words," Leon drawled, staring at the ceiling in consideration.

Sheng snorted, "Yeah, you do at that.  The two of you suit each other."

"Oh sure," Leon said. "The whole silent and angry thing is totally a type."

"Must be for _someone_ ," Sheng said.

Leon hesitated, a calculated move before he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Hey. You're not going to tell Yao, are you?"

Sheng blinked at him, "Tell him, what?  That you _might_ be dating Kiku?  You haven't told me anything.  Besides, I like you too much."

Leon's smile looked a shade sick. "Yeah. Might and all."

"You've got my word I won't tell Yao."

"Thanks," Leon said, mouth twisting. "It's not. I mean. It's still," he shrugged.

"Still not a sure thing?"

"New," Leon said.

Sheng nodded, resting a hand on Leon's shoulder before rising, "Well, good luck then."

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "We all need luck right? Engineered or actual."

"Safer to engineer it in a relationship, at least I'd assume so," Sheng said, heading for the door.

"Really? I think it would be worse," Leon said.

"Not if you're both engineering it together," Sheng replied with a grin.

"Right, of course," Leon shook his head. "We'll just cheat together on the relationship then shall we?"

"Not entirely what I—Y'know forget it.  Good luck to both of you then."

"Thanks," Leon said and his smile was more genuine than it had been. Sheng returned the smile before slipping out of Leon's room.

o-o-o

Gilbert threw the door open and managed to make it to the first parlor before throwing himself face first on the couch, gun still strapped on his leg. Roderich's eyebrows rose at that, "So that went well then?"

Dragging the pillow underneath his face, Gilbert groaned. "Well, we're alive, our alliance in intact, somehow I did not expect it to be more difficult to talk to the guy when we were on equal footing."

"Really?  It's _more_ difficult when you're speaking as equals?"  Roderich sighed, "Your decision-making paradigm may be broken."

"My decision making what now?" Gilbert asked.

"Paradigm.  The structure upon which you base your decisions and your relation to them," Roderich replied, leaning back in the chair he was seated in.

"Is that a fancy way of saying your decision making skills suck chose a better boyfriend next time?"

"It's a fancy way of saying the first.  Knowing you, I doubt there will be a next time."

Gilbert froze before he propped his chin up, looking at Roderich. "Not a next time?"

Roderich weighed his words carefully, "You care about him.  You're a loyal person, Gilbert.  And you _care_ about him.  So unless one of you does something unaccountably stupid I don't see it ending."

Frowning, Gilbert considered before he took a deep breathe. "Somehow even with everything I didn't think about it—not ending, huh? That's a long commitment."

"Or perhaps not," Roderich said, but shook his head.  "You both are hardy enough that you're right that it could be."

"Pretty sure he doesn't have to deal with assassin attempts from within," Gilbert said as the door slammed open and Feliks stormed in. Gilbert shook himself out of sudden thoughts of mortality.

Roderich startled, looking up as Toris trailed in after Feliks trying to slow the blond down.  Toris caught Feliks' arm, tugging slightly and offering Roderich and Gilbert an apologetic glance, "Feliks, come on.  Leave, leave it."

"You are so full of shit," Feliks snapped and Gilbert just arched a brow. "Let go, my ass."

" _Feliks_ ," Toris tried again, his gaze flickering toward Gilbert and then to where Roderich shifted in his chair.

"No, I'm serious, that man—" Feliks started and Gilbert pushed himself up and swung his legs back off the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.

"He let you go," Gilbert repeated and Feliks narrowed his eyes.

"You cannot be serious. That was not the expression of a man—" Feliks snarled, blond hair fluffy from where he had run his fingers through it too many times.

Gilbert's mouth thinned again. "He didn't expect you to run here, okay? That's different."

"Where, where did he expect us to go?"  Toris asked, "It's not as, as if we could have gotten out of this city.  The only, only people to run to would have been his enemies then no matter, no matter which House."

"I know that," Gilbert said. "I knew where you were going for that matter. But sometimes it's different to think about something, and to see it. Or that you didn't think it all the way through, okay?"

"Is, is he calmer now?" Toris asked after another moment, "About, about us being here for the time being I mean."

"Yeah. Did you ever try feeding him ice cream? It's a neat trick."

"For _you_ ," Feliks said, still stiff. "Don't think it would work for anyone else."

Toris blinked rapidly at Gilbert, staring at him like he had grown a second head, "You took him out for ice cream?"

"Yeah?" Gilbert said after a beat. "Why not?"

"Because it's motherfucking Ivan, that's why not. Like, no one else would possibly think of that it's so," Feliks wrinkled his nose. "Normal and yet totally not because you are grown men who like to shoot things and you went out for ice cream? Like fourteen-year-old girls?"

"I still can't figure out if you're the bravest, stupidest, or craziest person I've met," Toris murmured, still staring at Gilbert.

That garnered a chuckle from Roderich, who had decided that because he couldn't do anything about what was going on his best recourse was to find it amusing, "All three are applicable at some point or another."

"First of all, oi," Gilbert muttered, looking at Roderich. "Second of all, oi to you too and that's rich coming from someone whose boyfriend says shit like that." Feliks huffed at him, dropping down on the couch next to him and crossing his arms over his chest.

Toris hesitated before sitting down as well, "Craziest then."

"It's true though," Feliks said and Gilbert arched a brow at him. "You act like, like, fourteen-year-old girls. It's disconcerting."

"Not thinking so much with the fourteen-year-old girls, thanks," Gilbert said and forced himself to not blush.

"Ice cream.  And there were some movies you were watching that one morning," Toris said, quietly but pointedly.

"Hey now," Gilbert protested quickly.

"Movies? Like, fourteen-year-old girl movies?" Feliks asked with a sly smirk.

Toris offered a hint of a smile, "Well...I probably shouldn't say."

"Oh, no, do go on," Roderich said, cutting a glance toward Gilbert.

Gilbert buried his face in his hands. "Oh come on, shut up, it's not like I had any examples of what romance was supposed to look like in my life. I can't be blamed." Ludwig appeared in the door and stopped.

"Romance?"  Roderich offered an expression that could only be called a grin, "Gilbert, were you watching romantic comedies?"

Gilbert groaned again. "The kissing didn't seem right, okay?"

Sitting beside him on the couch, Feliks threw his head back and howled in laughter. Roderich looked back at Gilbert and started laughing, "Oh my god, Gilbert."

Toris caught sight of Ludwig and fell completely still, the smile that had been on his face vanishing.  "And you thought romantic comedies were the way to—" Feliks started, still laughing as he realized Toris had stilled and followed his gaze. Smiling sweetly at Ludwig he continued. "You're such a fourteen-year-old girl."

Roderich looked toward Ludwig, "Are you going to join us or continue to stand there, Ludwig?"

"Did it go well?" Ludwig asked, glaring at Feliks.

"Sure," Gilbert said, glancing between them. "I mean, as well as it could. He calmed down, we talked. The alliance is still firmly intact."

Toris' hand slid subtly toward Feliks, an automatic reaction that he didn't curb as much when Ivan was absent.  Roderich glanced from Gilbert to Ludwig, "Which is good news.  All of it, really."

"Yes," Ludwig agreed. "And you're alright?" He had not often had a chance to meet Ivan, and seeing him with Gilbert earlier in the day had not made him feel comfortable with the thought of them.

"Yeah dude I'm fine, like always," Gilbert said and Ludwig narrowed his eyes.

"Ludwig," Roderich spoke mutedly.  "He's fine.  Tired, but healthy, whole, and home."

"Yeah, see, fine, everyone's fine," Gilbert said, rising in one smooth motion to walk over to Ludwig, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"I'm just worried, is all."

"You don't have to be," Gilbert said with an easy grin.

Ludwig gave him a baleful look. "You could say it's a habit by now."

Roderich watched the two brothers before relaxing back in his chair again, "Worry comes naturally around you, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah, you're all bundles of laughs to be around too," Gilbert said and then paused, turning back to Ludwig. "I needed to talk to you, actually."

"I think that's our cue," Toris murmured to Feliks, rising and considering how best to get around Ludwig and Gilbert to get out of the room.

Gilbert noticed and obligingly pulled Ludwig back with him. "It's not secret," he said, but Ludwig was still glaring at Feliks.

Toris offered Gilbert a flickering smile, darting a wary glance toward Ludwig, "We've interrupted your evening enough."

Gilbert considered him a moment before nodding. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

Hesitating for a brief moment, Toris nodded, "Yes.  Good evening."  Before anything further could be said, he ducked out of the room and pulled Feliks with him.

"Romantic comedies," they could hear Feliks howl again once he was outside the door and Gilbert let out a long breath.

Roderich couldn't help his smile at that, before he tilted his head at the brothers, "Are you two planning to stand there or sit down again?"

"Sit," Gilbert decided and looked at Ludwig. "Look, this is going to make the rounds really fast, but Yao came to talk to Ivan."

Roderich sat up straighter, leaning forward at that, "I cannot imagine that Yao was happy about the latest developments."

"No," Gilbert agreed and Ludwig rubbed a hand over his face.

"The fucking English," he murmured. "The Asians are allied with Ivan and we with them and now there's a link in the middle that means the Asians and the English are allies with each other." He sighed, sitting back and kicking his legs out in front. "If they go to war, they'd expect us to be on either side."

"Yeah," Gilbert said softly.

"Our bigger concern, and our stronger ally is the Russian House.  Kirkland only nominally offered us an alliance, it's not as strong as some of our others, and certainly not as the one Bra—Ivan has," Roderich murmured.  "We're caught in the middle, but not impossibly so."

"Yes," Ludwig agreed. "Our ally is the Russian House, the English offered us little in return. And our agreement with the Romans may as well be an alliance." He paused. "We might offer an official alliance to the Asians as well."

Roderich considered that and shook his head, "I don't know how wise that would be.  We're already tied to them through a very strong alliance with their ally.  Regardless, we'll need to pull out of the alliance with the English."

"An official truce isn't as tying as an alliance," Gilbert said, propping his elbows on his knees. "But it would show both them and Ivan we were serious about this."

"That would probably be for the best.  I'm not sure it's a good idea to indelibly tie ourselves to either the Asian or the English House beyond what we have through the Russians."   Roderich paused, "We've also our relationship with the Mediterraneans to keep in mind.  It's no trouble, so far as I know, and certainly is no conflict with the Asians, but we do have that alliance as well."

Gilbert stared at Ludwig. "How many alliances did you _make_ , Lud?"

"Just, the Romans, the Mediterraneans and the English," Ludwig said. "And now the Russians and through them the Asians."

Gilbert just kept staring at him. "That's most of the town, Lud. Missing the Africans and the Nordics there."

"And the Nordics were adamant about neutrality toward all parties.  As were the Africans," Roderich said, lips curving upward.  "The Latins also didn't approach us, but I would say that's due to our alliance with the Romans."

"Still," Gilbert whistled. "Talk about your change in management."

"So if we undo the alliance with the English, we'll actually be coming out ahead with one direct and one indirect alliance following the dissolution of one," Roderich said, pulling his glasses off and resting the right earpiece against his lower lip.

Gilbert stared at him before nodding and looking at Ludwig. "And you don't mind?"

"Kirkland offered us nothing," Ludwig said. "Frankly, he was being a pragmatic bastard about the whole thing. Which single House can I get the most from with an alliance? But he gave us little to keep it going. Ivan is giving us, well, you and your continued happiness, as well as actual, solid concessions and interests."

"Kirkland was using us as a shield against Ivan was what he was doing," Roderich said, lip curling ever so slightly.

"Charming man, Kirkland," Gilbert remarked. "There's more though. Ivan says Yao wants to call for a full on meeting, the entire town, all gangs, the whole shebang."

"That means each House needs an heir and a guard," Ludwig said, eyes widening.

"There hasn't been a meeting like that in more than a decade," Roderich protested.  "What on earth does he want that for?"  He paused, gaze darting to Ludwig, "And what are you going to do about an heir?  We wouldn't be the only House without one, but it will be a glaring gap."

Ludwig folded his hands in his lap. "I've been thinking about it anyway. Unlike some Houses, I'd feel better with an heir anyway."

"Who have you been considering?"  Roderich asked after a moment.

"Just so long as it's not me," Gilbert said, leaning back and spreading his arms along the back of the couch. "Because hell to the no."

"Not Gilbert, check," Ludwig said wryly.

Roderich's lips quirked upward, "A wise choice.  Do you have someone in mind?"

Ludwig paused, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. "Lili," he said, clearly still hesitating.

"What?" Gilbert looked sideways at him. "Are you sure? She, I mean," he frowned. "She's so nervous though."

Roderich took his glasses off, cleaning the lenses before putting them back on and considering Ludwig, "She's a very intelligent young woman, and she's been growing more confident little by little, but as _heir_?  Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ludwig said. "She needs time still, but she's been growing much more confident."

"But you're assuming she'll continue to do so, if you name her heir," Gilbert pointed out.

"It's entirely probable that she would," Roderich said, considering for a moment. "Or at least I would hope it is."

"It's a hell of a lot to pin on hope," Gilbert muttered.

"No," Ludwig said. "She just needs time and space."

"She's easily controlled," Gilbert added. "By Vash especially. If she doesn't get out of that shadow she _won't_ grow much. She'll be sweet and determined but she won't grow."

"Exactly," Ludwig nodded. "Which is why you're going to be her guard."

There was a moment of stunned silence. "What?" Gilbert managed.

Roderich blinked rapidly before leaning forward, "You've thought this through."  He glanced at Gilbert, "You would be good as her guard, she likes you, trusts you.  And you have a tendency to push people out of their comfort zones, which she needs."

"No," Gilbert cut off. "Because I'm _your_ guard, Lud, and I always have been." His mouth was set in a thin, angry line and Ludwig finally looked back over at him.

"And you still will be," he said. "Most of the time. Because there's no one else I trust more than you to watch my back. But if she's declared heir, and when she needs to go out, you're her guard. Because it can't be Vash and she trusts you more than even Elizaveta. You can be an asshole, brother, but she adores you and I trust you. You won't fuck this up."

"So, you're sure about Lili, then," Roderich confirmed one final time.

"As I can be," Ludwig replied. "If there's an heir in this House, it's her."

"I still," Gilbert started and shook his head, sulking about the possibility of being reassigned.

Roderich nodded, "She's a good choice."

Ludwig gave him a weary smile before pushing himself up. "I need to go and fill out some paperwork then," he said. "I'll see you both at dinner?" he added, glancing at Gilbert.

"You mean when I bring it to you because you forgot and are doing too much?" Gilbert grumbled and Ludwig actually smiled.

Roderich offered Ludwig a smile and nodded, "Yes, you'll see us then."

Nodding at them both and his eyes lingering for a moment on Gilbert, Ludwig slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. With a long sigh, Gilbert sunk further down onto the couch.

"You know it's not a mark against you that he wants you as Lili's guard when she has to go out on her own," Roderich said, meaning it to be more of a question than it sounded.

"I know," Gilbert said. "But I just got back and it's not rejection it's in fact... a sign of more faith I get it but I just got back and I've always—I was always just going to be Ludwig's guard and my life was going to be his. But fuck, Ivan already complicated that and now there's Lili too? I'm not supposed to stretch in very many directions, Roderich."

"I know. No one's _supposed_ to stretch as much as this may be asking of you. Your life's always had a way of complicating itself."  He paused, thinking that the comment on the tip of his tongue would not be exceptionally well received, but saying it anyway—if there was one thing he tried to be with Gilbert it was honest, "Perhaps it's not a bad thing."

"No?" Gilbert asked, stretching his arms over his head before dropping them back to the back of the couch.

Roderich leaned back in his chair again, shaking his head, and speaking quietly, "No.  It, it means that you and Ludwig may not have to confront the issue of you, as his guard, being expected to die for him."

Gilbert froze before turning to stare at him. "Yeah? You expecting me to outlive him somehow?"

"No, I'm not," Roderich answered simply, though still mutedly and he was focused on his hands rather than on Gilbert.  "And I don't really expect him to outlive you either.  The two of you are too dependent upon each other. But, oh I don't know what I was saying or thinking.  It just, seems like an extra level of danger to have two people so dependent upon one another in positions like that.  Yes it means you could watch his back, but you're one of those people he will take risks that could get him killed for, just as much as he is for you."

"Yeah, but I naturally take more risks," Gilbert muttered. "Though I guess if he sees one that's totally insane he would take it."

Roderich finally looked at Gilbert again, "He would have stormed up to Ivan's door, and I'm pretty certain he considered it more often than I was privy to, while you were gone."

Gilbert snorted. "I was alive though. That makes at least something of a difference." He leaned forward, mirroring Ludwig's position earlier with his elbows on his knees and fingers laced together. "Did you ever think we'd come to this? Both of us dating Heads of different Houses? I mean," he laughed. "We'd never date the Head of this House but..."

Roderich snorted, running a hand over his dark hair and shaking his head, "No.  I never expected that we would come to this."

"We're pretty fucking stupid, huh?"

"I try not to spend too much time thinking about how idiotic my love life is, actually."

"Really? Because I can't seem to stop," Gilbert groaned, sinking his head into his hands.

Roderich rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up toward his forehead to do so, "I've certainly thought about it, but, I suppose I'm trying not to because of where the relationship currently is.  I'm currently happy lying to myself that there is no question we'll have time for it."

"I mean," Gilbert said to the ground. "Adnan isn't so bad, he's almost his own fucking institution. Not like Vargas or Grandfather yet but he's lasted a lot longer than most of them. And Ivan..."

"The other Houses are terrified of him, but they also don't act against him—in part because of that," Roderich murmured.

"It's been almost fifteen years since he became Head," Gilbert said. "I can't tell if that's comforting or not."

"Well, there's precedent for his survival, considering how long he's been Head.  _And_ when he came to power."

"But that's the thing," Gilbert said. "Fifteen years is a long time. It could mean he's at the end of it, or that he's become an institution of himself. But I don't know _which_."

"You'll drive yourself mad trying to figure out which," Roderich cautioned.

"Could lose him though," Gilbert said. "I'm not used to being scared about more people than—well, Ludwig. And to lesser degrees everyone else but it hasn't fucked with my lungs or my thinking before."

Roderich tilted his head to one side ever so slightly, "You really do love him, don't you?"  He had realized that before, but hadn't quite dared to articulate it.

"I probably wouldn't be in this situation otherwise," Gilbert said. "We went to _ice cream_ , remember? I had a gun strapped to my leg trying to convince my boyfriend not to murder people I'm relatively fond of and we had ice cream."

Roderich couldn't help a slightly strained, wry laugh, "No, no I suppose you wouldn't be."

"I liked it more when all I had to do was worry about Ludwig," Gilbert muttered. "It was easier. Less confusing."

"Easier and less confusing, but would you really trade this for that?" Roderich asked, eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

"Maybe," he admitted. "I liked it when it made sense." He shook his head. "Pretty weird that we're all dating outside the House though."

"At least Ludwig isn't dating someone who's actually in a central position in another gang as well.  It makes it ever so slightly simpler—not by much but nevertheless."

"Yeah, and it's Feli," Gilbert said. "He seems to be good for him."

Roderich's lips curled into a smile, "So far as I've seen, he is.  Though your brother took a couple of risks early on that," he paused, "I think he got the point when Vash and I both confronted him about it."

Blinking at him, Gilbert cocked his head. "Eh? He took risks?"

"He went out alone after dark to meet Feliciano.  Once.  Lili told us she had seen him leave the next morning when he wasn't up and in his office by the time he usually was."

Gilbert tensed, barely keeping himself from storming upstairs and yelling at Ludwig, weeks late. "Goddamn moron."

"He's alright, Gilbert.  And he hasn't done anything that stupid since," Roderich murmured.

"He could have been seen he could have been shot—half the city probably knows they're dating now and that puts them both in danger," Gilbert said. "Stupid, stupid move."

"Half the city is allied with us, and with them by default.  Yes, it was a truly stupid action on his part, and if we'd known it was happening when it _was_ we would have attempted to head it off," Roderich said.

"Do you approve of his little Italian?" Gilbert asked, rubbing a hand over his face again.

"I haven't spent much time with him, but from what I've seen, and excepting the incident I just mentioned?  I think he's good for Ludwig.  Yes, I do rather like him."

"I've heard a lot about him," Gilbert said. "From Antonio mostly. But I haven't really had the chance to talk to him much. He seems good. Ludwig's a bit looser than he was."

"He stayed the night once.  The night he brought the painting, I believe," Roderich offered.

"Just the one night?"

"Antonio got himself shot not long after, and Ludwig's been busy, so yes so far just the one night."

"Huh," Gilbert managed, suddenly realizing how difficult it would be to spend the night with Ivan.

"It's difficult.  Separate Houses, and one half of the couple a Head," Roderich shook his head, trying not to grimace.

"You and Sadiq?" Gilbert asked after a moment, deciding he might as well use the man's first name now.

"We've been to dinner a few times.  I went to him the night you got home.  We're, we're taking things slowly," Roderich said, quietly.

"Right, so not a problem for you yet?" Gilbert asked and then shook his head. "Okay. Fuck it. You wanna go play music?"

Roderich got to his feet as he answered, "Oh, _God_ , yes."

"Oh thank fucking god. I've missed my flute I mean... the one I had there just wasn't the same."

"You had a flute there?"

"Ivan bought me one," Gilbert explained. "It was nice enough."

Roderich paused to blink at him, "Ivan bought you a flute?"

"I asked for one," Gilbert said, pushing to his feet and stretching his hands up high. "So, yeah?" Roderich opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again and shook his head instead. "What?" Gilbert asked, in the door and turning back to look at him. "What?"

"Nothing.  Every time you say something, I end up having to revise my view of Ivan just a little bit more, is all."

"This is a good revision, right?"

"Yes, it's a good revision," Roderich said with a faint smile.

"Good. Now let's go make some noise."


	35. Because He's Awkward But He's So Good Too

Sheng paused on his way down the hall and backtracked to push Kiku's door open from where it was standing ajar, "Can I come in?"

Kiku looked up from his computer, folding the laptop shut as he nodded. He watched silently as Sheng closed the door and moved to stand at the foot of his bed. They studied each other for nearly a minute before Kiku finally spoke, "Is there something on your mind?"

"Leon told me about you."

Kiku desperately hoped neither his panic nor his betrayal showed on his face, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to play dumb. I know, it's not the end of the world. I mean, I put it together and he confirmed it." Sheng frowned, "I mean, once you're looking for it, it's not that hard to see."

"Not that hard to see," Kiku echoed flatly. "So he told you then."

"Yeah. Did you think he'd keep it from me forever? I told him I wouldn't tell Yao, but it's not as bad as it could be."

"Not as bad as—" Kiku broke off when he realized he was echoing again. "Yao will have my head if it comes to light."

Sheng blinked at him, "I'm more worried about Leon. Though I guess from a cradle-robbing standpoint you'd be in a tight place. He's not quite legal after all."

That did nothing but confuse Kiku, "Cradle-robbing?" Realization glimmered, "You think—" he stopped and considered the merits of perpetuating that lie.

"That's what he told me..." Sheng looked like he was ready to question that and Kiku spoke before the thoughts could fully form.

"Well, we," he sighed, shaking his head, "we were going to wait and talk about if and when to tell people. I am glad that you know, though. It is a relief not to lie to everyone. You," He looked down, running a hand over his laptop, "you really will not tell Yao?"

"He won't hear about it from me."

That earned one of Kiku's faint smiles, "Thank you."

Sheng nodded and headed for the door, pausing to look back at Kiku, "Be careful with him, he deserves something good and I'd hate to face Yao after hurting you for hurting him."

Kiku inclined his head and waited for the door to close before grabbing up his camera and watching his clock to tick past five minutes. Once the time had passed he moved quickly to Leon's room, rapping on the door, "Leon, I realized I forgot a couple of the pictures I wanted tonight. Come with me?"

"Oh," Leon pulled the door opened and offered a faint smile as he looked up and down the hall. "Sure."

Kiku looked him over once, stepping back and starting for the door, "Sheng just stopped by my room."

"Did he," Leon said, not much of a question.

"Mhm." He waited until they were out of the house before speaking further, "He said you told him."

"I assume you mean about me and you, not Alfred."

"It took him some time to get around to that, but yes, about you and me."

"Sorry," Leon shrugged, looking exhausted. "He sortta came to that conclusion and it seemed safer to let him think that then to, you know, let him keep wondering and come to the right conclusion."

Kiku nodded, "No, it was a good solution."

"Still, sorry." He shook his head. "I should have at least warned you somewhat."

"It would be one of those situations where a text even in the same building would be helpful," Kiku took a couple of pictures, glancing at Leon. "It is a good excuse, though."

"I wanted to talk to you but apparently he moves faster," Leon said. "I couldn't figure out the right text."

"It is fine."

Leon looked at him sideways, head tilted down. "What did he say anyway?"

"That he knew, he would not tell Yao, and that I should be careful with you."

Leon snorted. "Careful with me? When has anyone..." he shook his head. "He called you a cradle robber to me."

"Well, that arose as well, yes," Kiku said.

Leon snorted. "He has a way with words."

Kiku's lips twitched upward at that, "That is one way to put it."

"We'll have to put on an act," Leon said. "Not much of one, thank god, but an act."

"How much more would we need to change than what we already do? We already spend more time together than we used to."

"Not much but," he shrugged. "Flirt a little? Smile sometimes maybe."

"Smiles I may be able to do." He paused, lips quirking again, "Do you truly think I flirt with even Alfred?"

"Without meaning to, probably," Leon shrugged. "I mean, it probably would blow his mind if you ever tried it. Which means you totally should."

"I would not know how," Kiku said.

"You just flirt," Leon said. "You know, smile, bat your lashes or something and... okay this is harder to explain than I thought."

Kiku smiled, "Maybe I can try, but I do not think it would go well."

"He'd probably walk into a wall," Leon said. "Which is an amusing image and you should totally do it."

“I prefer he not run into walls, actually."

"Well, he wouldn't damage himself, it would just be funny," Leon shrugged. "Don't worry, he's done worse to himself."

Kiku glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, "That is not very reassuring."

"He tended to trip down stairs when he hit puberty," Leon said, trying not to sound too amused by that, even after all this time.

That actually earned a quiet chuckle from Kiku, "Actually, that, that does not surprise me much."

"When he had to get glasses was worse," Leon said. "He almost got himself killed a couple times."

"How?" Kiku asked, stopping and turning to face Leon.

"He almost tripped into a pothole," he said. "Almost walked into an ambush. It was the last one that convinced him no matter how much he looked like Mattie he was going to get glasses." Leon stopped abruptly, clicking his jaw shut when he realized he had fallen back into using Matthew's nickname.

Kiku paled at the mention of the ambush, but he set it aside and looked at Leon, "I do not think Alfred has even called him that around me."

Leon scowled because of course Kiku would pick up on that. "He does all the time in the House. Liam too. Arthur ...used to."

"Do you think you will contact him? Matthew I mean."

"I don't know," Leon said. "I think yes and then I think no."

"The decision does not need to be made tonight, at least."

"Perhaps not," Leon said, kicking a stone. "But if I don't make a decision who knows what might happen. What he'd do. What I'd do. It's better to not put it off." He still wanted to hit his head against a wall until he could forget saying “Mattie”.

"But it would be better to consider it before getting involved. It, it is certainly not an easy thing."

"I'm already involved," Leon said. "I call him _Mattie_ still, like I'm ten years old."

Kiku's lips quirked upward, "That is true. You two will need to find some way to communicate—phones work, but they are expensive and not the most effective."

"Yes, yes," Leon said, waving a hand slightly. "You mentioned that. We'll figure something out, if we're going to. Have you talked to Alfred lately?"

"Not since he gave me Matthew's number for you."

"Have you guys ever figured out how to, you know, sleep together yet?" Leon asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Not, not yet," Kiku said, color rising to his cheeks. "He said that he had cased a hotel a while ago without thinking about it."

Leon covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh my god. No, that doesn't actually surprise me."

"It surprised both of us," Kiku said, not looking at Leon.

"Yes, I'm sure it did," Leon shook his head. "He was probably casing the wrong hotel anyway."

"I love the faith you have in him," Kiku said, his voice dry.

"I have perfect faith in some of his abilities, but not those to pick out a secluded spot for a tryst."

That actually garnered a quiet chuckle, "Alright, that is very true."

Leon stretched his hands over his head and let them drop behind his head as they walked. "I'm still working on imaging him with a sex drive to be honest. But, I don't know. I can't be glad it's you because of the trouble you're going to get yourselves and everyone else in but in other ways I am."

Kiku took a picture of a shadowed doorway, catching the setting sun glancing across it, "Thank you. I think that thanks is the right response to that."

"I think the right response would be no approval, or turning you in," Leon rejoined. "Stick my head back into the sand and not care. But I don't feel like it."

"Then yes, thank you. I do rather appreciate not being turned in, and, well, it is nice to have _someone_ that I am not lying to."

"Mei knows," Leon said after a beat, clearly not wanting to deal how close Kiku had come to calling him a friend. "If we're convincing most of the House we're together she might protest."

"She has not told Yao about Alfred and I. I am hoping she will come to me about us as well."

"She might not understand," Leon said.

Kiku drew a steadying breath, "That is true. I do not know how to explain it for her though."

"Hey, we're deflecting, I swear I'm not deflowering the youngling?" Leon offered.

Kiku offered a nervous laugh, color rising to the cheeks again, "I will give that a try."

"Except perhaps not quite those words," Leon said after a beat.

"Well, no. I do not see those words as ones I would choose."

"Because you're sortta a prude in there," Leon grinned over at him. "I honestly could never date you."

"To be perfectly frank, I could not date you either."

"Oh, glad we got that settled then," Leon laughed. "Though I still think we need a fake dating plan."

"Quite probably. How do we even go about that?"

"I don't know," Leon said. "Just you know, drop hints to whoever asks except Yao?"

Kiku nodded, "It sounds like as much of a plan as we might have at this point."

Leon laughed, shaking his head. "God help us all with the way you flirt."

Kiku's lips twitched upward, "We should, we should head back."

"Yes, back," Leon said, turning his head. Kiku looked down the road away from the House, pausing for a long moment and dismissing the fleeting thought of keeping on that road rather than return.

o-o-o

Feliciano tapped on the door of Ludwig's office, offering Lili a grateful smile before he opened the door and she slipped down the hall again. He stuck his head in, "Ludwig?"

"Yes?" Ludwig snapped his head up from where he had been staring at the wall, thinking about anything except the work he was supposed to be doing.

"I probably should have called ahead. Vash let me in. Lili led me up," he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind himself.

"It's fine," he said, already smiling. "I wasn't really working."

Feliciano offered him a bright smile at that, moving over to the desk, his satchel over his shoulder, "So I'm not interrupting then?"

"No," Ludwig said. "Can I get you something, coffee or anything? Or rather have it asked for."

He considered that for a moment, "Hot chocolate?" Feliciano bit his lip, "With whipped cream maybe?"

"Of course," Ludwig said with an easy smile, rising and leaning over to the phone. "Gilbert always liked hot chocolate too. And beer. I've never actually understood." He smiled easier now when he mentioned his brother.

"You don't drink hot chocolate?" Feliciano asked, tilting his head to one side, smiling happily at Ludwig's expression.

"I much come down on the beer side of my ability to handle sweet drinks," he said.

"You're not much for sweet things, are you," Feliciano said, moving to lean against the end of the desk.

"I don't much like the taste of sweet things," he said, emphasizing taste. "But you're very sweet and I am very fond of you."

Feliciano blinked rapidly at that, before his smile widened into something bright and delighted, "I'm very fond of you too."

"Good, because otherwise we might have a problem," Ludwig said with a softer smile.

"And I'm really not interrupting?"

"No," he said quickly. "It's been too long since you've been here."

The door was pushed open by Gilbert's shoulder as he entered carrying two cups. "Dude, brother, what is this I hear with you needing hot chocolate in your office? Have your tastes—oooooh," he said, grinning at Feliciano. "I see now."

"Why do you have two cups then?" Ludwig asked, noticing only one had whipped cream which Gilbert made a show of handing to Feliciano.

"There was hot chocolate being made," Gilbert said. "I had to get in on that. Not that I think we'll have much left because I left Feliks and Elizaveta with it and I'm not sure how that will end."

Feliciano took the cup with a smile of thanks, "They like hot chocolate too then?" He curled his fingers around the mug, pulling it close and looking at Gilbert curiously.

"One of them does," Gilbert said, serenely sipping his own cup like what he said was perfectly normal. "The other looks like she's willing to rub it in his blond hair."

Feliciano laughed before taking a drink of his hot chocolate, shifting his attention from Gilbert to look at Ludwig over the rim of his cup and ask, "You're doing well? Better?"

"Yes," Ludwig said.

"Were you unwell?" Gilbert asked, instantly tensing until Ludwig leveled him with a look. "Oh, the, right. Not actually unwell?"

"I've been in perfect health," Ludwig said. "Like normal you know."

"Except for the not sleeping part," Feliciano murmured.

"That's not being sick," Ludwig muttered.

"It weakens your immune system," Gilbert said primly.

Feliciano took another drink of the hot chocolate, "You can't live on caffeine and determination alone."

"Yes I can," Ludwig muttered and Gilbert narrowed his eyes, clearly doing some calculations in his head.

"Well you shouldn't," Feliciano countered, lowering the hot chocolate and licking the whipped cream off of his top lip without thinking about it.

Ludwig stared before shaking his slightly and looking back to where Gilbert was leaning on the wall by the door, his ankles crossed and drinking his hot chocolate. He looked utterly casual except for the fact that he was positioned exactly where he needed to be to stop anyone coming through the door, or to shoot someone coming in the window from behind Ludwig without Ludwig being in the way. Sometimes Ludwig had forgotten just how much he missed his brother. "Perhaps not," he said, managing to forget what he was agreeing to. "Have you been doing any painting?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Not really," Feliciano shrugged, running a finger through the whipped cream and sucking it off of his first finger, glancing at Ludwig sideways with a slight smile on his face. "Just some still life. Mostly sketches, a couple of small watercolors. Nothing with the oils and no portraits."

"What are you sketching?" Ludwig asked, carefully trying not to stare.

"Whatever comes to mind. A few people, nothing I can really _paint_ ," he said, repeating the motion with the whipped cream and then taking another drink of the chocolate.

"Why not?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano waved a hand toward where his painting of Ludwig hung, "Because none of them have the right feel to them yet. I can't get the touch for them. They aren't, they aren't important enough." He paused and his eyes widened, "That isn’t what I meant. I mean, not to me. I mean, they're just people. They're not....they're not _portraits_." 

Gilbert's eyebrows slowly went up and Ludwig blinked before smiling. "That sounds awful," he said, sounding amused. "But you tried to explain it to me one time, didn't you? That you really need the feel of someone before you can do a portrait of them. Which is probably why they're so terrifying." 

Feliciano blushed, biting his lip and nodding, "I can't paint someone I don't know. It just, it doesn't work. I've tried, and I hated them all." 

Eyes sliding back to the portrait of Ludwig, Gilbert considered it for several moments with narrowed eyes while Ludwig nodded. "Yes. I could see why. I hope you find a new subject—soon." 

"They'll come when they come," Feliciano hesitated. "I've been meaning to re-do the one of Lovino but the sketches haven't been right yet." 

"He's prickly," Gilbert said, still staring at the painting. 

"Lovi? Sort of." Feliciano shrugged, "I mean, yes, but at the same time not like he used to be. It's, the last one's too dark, too lonely." 

"Was he too dark and lonely then?" Ludwig asked and Gilbert snorted. 

"It's hard to be that when Antonio's attention is focused on you. Not that he can't be too but he's damn good at hiding it when he is." 

"Antonio hides a lot of who he is," Feliciano said with a shrug before looking to Ludwig. "Lovi was, Lovi was not in a good place, hasn't ever been really." 

"Is he in a better place now?" Ludwig asked and Gilbert sucked on his teeth a moment, carefully not laughing or mentioning Antonio again. 

Feliciano offered a grin at that, "Yes. Much." 

"I'm glad of it," Ludwig said, still watching Feliciano a little too closely to be really polite. 

Feliciano caught his eyes but turned his attention back to his cup. He had pretty well drained it off the hot chocolate but there was still a ring of whipped cream which he took advantage of, clearing it from the rim with his finger and sucking it off of there again before looking at Ludwig. 

Ludwig looked a little distracted and Gilbert laughed suddenly, the dry hissing sound it usually was. " _Brother_. You know he's doing that on purpose, don't you?" 

"What?" Ludwig's attention snapped over and he cleared his throat. 

Feliciano huffed at that, offering Gilbert a slightly betrayed look, "Spoilsport." 

"He, he is?" Ludwig asked and Gilbert just sighed dramatically. 

"I'm not being a spoilsport but man, Ludwig, that was pathetic. Of course he is." 

"I thought you didn't understand flirting," Ludwig muttered. 

Gilbert rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Who says I do? Even after Feliks took it upon himself to start giving me lessons, which I think he was going to start offering me kissing lessons too except for the look Toris was giving him which really—no anyway." Ludwig's eyes had narrowed and Gilbert arched a brow. "But yes. He's doing that on purpose to get you hot and bothered under the collar." 

"He figured out the Tango," Feliciano admitted to Gilbert, though he was looking at Ludwig again. "Though it took a little bit." 

"And it's obvious flirting too!" Gilbert said, shaking his head. "Not breaking your ribs and bringing you sunflowers which is much harder to read." 

"Sunflowers?" Feliciano looked at Gilbert, blinking for a moment. 

"He really likes them," Gilbert shrugged. "Why?" 

The artist shrugged, "No reason, just hadn't expected that." 

"I think most people wouldn't expect sunflowers out of Ivan," Ludwig said dryly. 

"Flowers make maybe a little sense. I mean, not from him necessarily but for flirting," Feliciano said with a shrug. "It's just the sunflowers bit." 

"It's the he was leaving them there looking terrified when I couldn't move from the bed part that threw me," Gilbert said wryly and Ludwig's eyes darkened. 

Feliciano nearly choked trying to suppress a laugh, "That, yes that would...that would certainly be confusing." 

Gilbert shrugged. "What do you know, words actually help." 

"I've heard that's true. I tend to talk enough that Lovino might disagree." Feliciano offered a smile to Gilbert, "I'm glad for you." 

"Uh?" he managed, blankly. 

"What?" Feliciano shrugged slightly, "I'm glad you're here, but I'm also glad that you and Ivan are figuring things out. I don't, I don't know if that makes sense." 

"No, no," Gilbert said quickly. "It does, I'm just—not sure anyone's actually congratulated me on the Ivan thing, er, yet?" 

"Well they should. You seem, you seem happy. I mean, I didn't know you before, but," he shrugged again. 

"I can't imagine why people wouldn't,"  Ludwig ground out and Gilbert laughed. 

"Something to do with the rib breaking?" 

"Indeed," Ludwig said. 

"But you're past that, right?" Feliciano asked, glancing between the brothers. 

"Well, yeah," Gilbert said and Ludwig still looked annoyed. "Hey. We should—go on a run," he decided suddenly and grabbed Feliciano's arm, dragging him away. 

Feliciano startled, looking back over his shoulder and waving at Ludwig as he followed Gilbert out of the office. "Um," Ludwig managed, blinking before shaking his head slightly. 

Feliciano slipped his arm out of Gilbert's grip after they were out of the office, "I don't really run." 

"It's not that hard I'll go slow," Gilbert said, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stairs down two at a time. 

"If you're sure I won't slow you up too much," Feliciano agreed, scrambling down behind him. 

"I'm out of shape anyways," he shrugged. "The point is to get out not to go fast." 

"Getting out as much as you can now that you're home?" Feliciano guessed. 

"That makes me sound like I'm running away," Gilbert laughed. "But yeah, outside is nice." 

Feliciano offered him a smile, "Not how I meant that. Just, not cooped up." 

"Yeah," he said, stretching his arms up and rolling his shoulders. "Fuck, it's nice to feel fresh air and know I can go as far or short as I like." 

"Sunlight too, even if it is winter's light," Feliciano said. 

"I don't mind winter much.” 

Feliciano glanced at him from the corner of his eye, "I guess I just like summer sunlight better. Warmer, brighter." 

Gilbert pushed open a back door, spilling them out into the gardens. "Suits you. Lud and I are more winter people, that's for sure." He frowned suddenly, remembering Ivan’s stories of being locked outside. 

"Lovino's autumn. He always has been," Feliciano said, letting his eyes move around the gardens in their dormant state. 

"Tonio too," Gilbert said, laughing again. 

Feliciano tilted his head to one side, considering that as they started through the gardens, "I guess I hadn't ever really seen him as a season. What makes you say that?" 

"He's dark," Gilbert said. "Warm laugh, likes mulled cider, god knows why, enjoys nights and occasionally has the weirdest, most macabre sense." 

"You said he's good at hiding. I mean, I know that, but that and the macabre sense," Feliciano paused, mouth twisting in frustration as he tried to figure out his question. "I guess, I'm just wondering what you meant, or what you were thinking of when you said those things because, it's ‘Tonio, and people usually have something they're thinking about him when they say things like that." 

"Which things? The autumn things?" Gilbert asked, starting on a slow jog. 

"Most things," Feliciano said, moving to keep pace with Gilbert. "But I mean, like earlier when we were talking about Lovi and hiding you said Antonio hides too. And that's clear to anyone who knows him well, but it's also not something really obvious and even people who know him forget that."

Gilbert snorted. "You mean him hiding his rage? It's hard to buy his smile when you've hauled his drunk ass off a balcony where he was doing his best to get himself killed by ranting about the city. The whole city, mind you. The whole system of gangs and territory and it was all just bullshit and he was sick of it." 

Feliciano paled at that answer, "He didn't really. When did he do that?" 

"He did. It was, uh, a couple years ago. Maybe three or four now." 

"God. I didn't know he got drunk enough to put himself in that much trouble." 

"Um," Gilbert managed. 

"You all did at some point or another didn't you," Feliciano asked without really asking. "In different ways?" 

"Well yes and no. I always had Ludwig and Francis honestly doesn't give a shit. But Antonio is different. It gets to him more." 

"Do you remember what set him off that time? Beyond being drunk," Feliciano asked, concern tinging his question. 

"Something... I think he'd run into the English or something, or your grandfather was starting to tease him with being heir. He didn't want to be," Gilbert said, slowing as he realized he'd increased his pace thinking about it. 

Feliciano hesitated ever so slightly at that comment, "And now he's Head." 

"He came into it more later," Gilbert said. 

"He's good at it." 

"Yeah?" Gilbert said, slowing more before coming to a complete stop. "Is he? Somehow, I'd never expect that. But gossiping about 'Tonio aside, I did sortta drag you out here to learn more about you." 

Feliciano's lips twitched into a smile, "Because I'm dating your brother?" 

"Of course," Gilbert laughed. 

"Well, what do you want to know about me then?" Feliciano asked simply. 

"I didn't come with a list," Gilbert said and looked him over. "You weren't kidding about not being much of a runner, though." 

Feliciano laughed, wiping a hand across his brow, "I told you that." 

"You did," he agreed. "But did I believe you? Not quite so much." 

Stretching slightly, Feliciano tilted his head to one side, "Why not?" 

"You live in this town," Gilbert said. "Basic ability to run away seems like a must, you know?" 

"Yeah, I guess so." 

"Though I suppose in your case, the hope would be that you'd spend less time running away from people shooting you," Gilbert said, stretching his arms over his head. "So you paint, you like Ludwig, you dance. That's something but it's not a very full picture, you know." 

"I also like to cook, and try to see the better side of things," Feliciano contributed. 

"Optimism," Gilbert remarked. "And why are you with Ludwig then...?" 

"Because I like him," Feliciano said. 

"The only person less optimistic than him is Ivan," Gilbert said. "And I know some pretty depressing souls." 

"Just because I'm an optimist doesn't mean I expect it from other people," Feliciano said. "I grew up with Lovino for god's sake. I'm pretty sure he's less pessimistic than he acts but he's not exactly optimistic either." 

Gilbert considered him for a long moment. "Alright. But that's all small stuff. The big question before we go back is something else. Why Ludwig?" 

"Because," he paused, considering his answer. "Because he's Ludwig. Because he cares about me. Because, because he's awkward, but he's so good too. Because I'm not just a pretty face to him. Because he, he makes sure that he has my complete consent for whatever we do, even if I've already said yes. Because," Feliciano's hands fluttered as he tried to find the right words, "because he, well it started because he was handsome, but it's so much more. I really like him. And he likes me. Not just for, well, how I look, but because he actually likes me. It's, it's not something I've really talked about before." 

Gilbert tried not to laugh. "I'd expect the last part. The not talking about it I mean. But you're serious about this aren't you?" 

Feliciano nodded, "Yes, I'm serious about this." 

"If it helps, Ludwig's always been serious about everything," Gilbert said with a laugh, stretching his hands over his head. "Come on then. My curiosity has been mostly satisfied and my itch to get out scratched." 

That earned a grin, "What do you do when you're not out running?" 

"Shoot things, piss people off, and play the flute," he shrugged, walking rather than run. 

"You play the flute?" Feliciano's eyes lit up. 

"Why is everyone so surprised?" 

"I dunno, I guess it just isn't what I would picture." 

"No one seems to," Gilbert said. "I'll prove it to you sometime." 

Feliciano considered for a moment, "I think it's because you move so much. Flute seems like it would be....calm?" 

Gilbert laughed. "Everyone has to stay still for something." 

"Do you play often?" Feliciano asked. 

"When I can," Gilbert said. "I mean, sometimes shit gets too busy but when I can I do." 

"How long have you played?" 

"Na-uh," Gilbert shook his head. "Too technical of a question. Aren't you supposed to be charming?" 

"Who told you that?" Feliciano asked with a grin. 

"Ludwig though he's a fuck judge of it, being so innately incapable of it himself." 

"I think he might be a little biased too." He considered, "What sort of music do you like to play?" 

"I don't know," Gilbert said. "Whatever I like the sound of. Roderich is more picky. I've found things like covers of AC/DC that I think are awesome but he says they make his ears bleed and refuses to play them with me." 

Feliciano laughed, "I guess I hadn't thought of flute covers for AC/DC." 

"Roderich hadn't either which is why it was so offensive to him," Gilbert said, still laughing at the memory. 

"I'm curious what those covers would sound like." 

"I'll try him again sometime," Gilbert said, grinning at the prospect. 

Feliciano paused, musing on something, "Would you be willing to play for me sometime?" 

"Yeah," he said, brightly. "It'd be better with Roderich but even if he refuses I'll work on it." 

Feliciano offered him a bright smile, "Great! I look forward to it." 

"Yeah? Well try back in a couple weeks then and we'll see." 

"It's a deal," Feliciano agreed happily. 

"Ha, yeah, just keep dating Ludwig that long," Gilbert teased. 

"Was that in question?" Ludwig demanded from where he was at the door. 

"Ah, Ludwig," Gilbert said and scooped Feliciano up into a hug. "He's so adorable where did you find him?" 

Feliciano laughed, squirming out of the hug after a moment, "At a meet with the Roman House. You were there." 

"How did you keep him?" Gilbert happily amended and Ludwig flushed. 

"B-brother..." 

"I told you that already," Feliciano admonished before offering Ludwig a blinding smile. "By being himself." 

Ludwig only blushed harder and Gilbert hung off his shoulders laughing. "Alright, alright. I've taken enough of your love bird time, I'll leave you alone now." 

o-o-o 

Yao stood to one side of the main door, watching Kiku and Mei. "And you remember your instructions?" 

"Yes, sir," Mei said. "We won't forget them. It's to test the waters, not a binding negotiation and even so we won't offer them anything you wouldn't." 

Kiku nodded his agreement, "And we are to report back whatever they say in detail to you so that decisions can be made as to how to proceed." 

"Good," he said, arms crossed over his chest, hair sloppily pulled back since he was not leaving the house for hours yet. "Be careful." 

Kiku inclined his head, "Of course, sir." He glanced at Mei and then nodded toward the door, indicating she should precede him. 

She nodded, turning as Leon came around the corner, hesitating. "Oh, are you going to the meet?" he asked, affecting a casual posture. 

Kiku paused at that, looking toward Leon and blinking once before nodding, "Yes. We were just leaving." 

Leon paused another moment before leaning forward and suddenly hugging Kiku. "Be careful," he said, using the way his body blocked Yao's sight to slip a note in Kiku's pocket. 

Kiku stiffened, his eyes widening at the sudden contact and darting quickly in Yao's direction, before he stepped back from Leon, nodding, "Of course we will be." 

"Good," he said, leaning back quickly. 

Kiku nodded once more, this time in acknowledgement of the note in his pocket. With one last glance toward Yao, he slipped out of the house. 

"What was that?" Mei asked as they walked, hand resting lightly on her gun strapped to her waist. 

"What do you mean?" Kiku asked, his gaze never staying still as he appraised the route they were taking. 

"With Leon," she said. 

"He has been going out with me to take photos," he paused and determined that he was unable to actually lie to her based on prior evidence. "And he may have told Sheng that we are seeing one another." 

"What?" she snapped. "Why?" 

He offered her a long look at that, "Because he did. Yao is going to have a fit, but it is better than the truth of the matter." 

"Better, perhaps, but it won't be good," she said. "So what was that display about then? Convincing him or something else?" 

"I am sincerely hoping that display was Leon not thinking through consequences. Because I will be paying for it when we get home," Kiku murmured not actually answering the question as he considered the best way to pass the note he knew was now in his pocket along to Alfred to get to, he assumed, Matthew. 

"Right," she said, staring at him. "This meeting..." 

He didn't react more than a glance in her direction, "What about it?" 

"You and your love. Is it going to be a problem at all?" 

"No. It will not be a problem," Kiku said, silently hoping that he was being honest. 

"I hope for all our sakes, you aren't just saying that." 

Kiku pushed open the door to the cafe that Arthur and Yao had somehow decided was adequately neutral for both their tastes, holding the door for Mei. He let his eyes skim over the room and saw the members of the English House who were waiting—Alfred and the older redhead, Cameron was it? The guard. Fingers curling around the note Leon had slipped him he made his way over, inclining his head to them and meeting Alfred's eyes for a moment, "Thank you for meeting with us." 

"Still surprised you guys agreed to it," Alfred said, posture too straight and tense to be normal, even taking into account the danger of the situation. 

"It is something that could be mutually beneficial to our Houses. No one wishes for conflict, after all," Kiku replied, his eyes flicking very briefly to the guard at Alfred's side and he half-wished that Matthew or their cousin had been sent instead. 

"Really?" Alfred asked. "Not so sure that can be said about either of the old bastards." 

"Watch your tongue," Mei snapped before she could help herself. 

"Mei," Kiku said, shaking his head once before fixing his gaze on Alfred again. "Courtesy in this conversation would be the wise choice." 

Cameron leaned back in his chair, looking far too casual for it to be natural, "He insulted our Head just as equally as he did yours, I'd say it's not that discourteous." 

Alfred's next smile was strained and far from his normal cocky expression. "So, what are we supposed to talk about?" 

"I believe we were to determine what your House wished from any sort of agreement that might be reached. There were no formal terms during our last cease-fire," Kiku said, his expression never wavering, though one of his hands twitched ever so slightly where he was resting them in his lap. 

"Because it wasn't even a formal cease-fire," Alfred said. "Which I seem to recall coming more from your side then ours." 

Kiku's chin tipped up ever so slightly almost as though he'd been stung, "And I recall us asking to be left alone. We would remain uninvolved so long as your House did. Now we are to consider actual terms. What happened in the past is not immediately relevant." 

"And who precisely has not been leaving who alone?" Alfred snapped and then stopped, side-eying Cameron. "I mean, besides minor incidents." 

There was a moment of silence as Kiku stared at Alfred, the only change in his expression the widening of his brown eyes, "There have been mistakes made on the part of both of our Houses—" 

Cameron spoke, "I seem to recall gettin' shot at by more than one of yours not all that long ago." 

"And you drew blood on me as well," Kiku responded, coldly. He turned his attention back to Alfred, "Are we able to talk potential agreements or not?" 

"What sort of agreement?" Alfred asked, kicking back in the chair he was seated in, and looking far from happy. 

"To begin with an actual cease-fire. But what is it that your House is hoping to achieve with these meetings?" Kiku replied, remembering Yao's instruction not to offer anything that he wouldn't and then only as a last resort. 

Arms crossed over his chest, Alfred considered. "Would a ceasefire even be enough?" 

"It will have to be. Unless your Head has something else to bring to the table," Kiku said calmly. 

"That wasn't my point," Alfred snapped. "If we put a cease fire into place is that even a guarantee anymore?" 

"We have no intention of breaking it," Kiku said. 

"Really?" Alfred snorted. 

Kiku stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head, "Really. This is getting us nowhere." 

"I've noticed you haven't offered a damn thing," Alfred said, leaning forward again. "Last time your Head refused to even offer an official ceasefire and now that he is you think it's really not a ploy to get us to relax our guard?" 

"You say that as though anything has been offered by either side in this discussion," Kiku said, his jaw tensing. 

"We aren't the ones who are allies with the Russians," Alfred said. 

Kiku inclined his head very slightly in acknowledgement of that fact, "No, you are the ones who allied with the largest group of Houses possible instead." 

"Nu-huh," Alfred negated. "Not allied. Not persay just the Germans and..." he stopped dead for a moment. "And by default truces with the others that's not..." he stuttered to a mental stop again when his brain caught up with the Russian and German alliance. 

Kiku's eyes widened ever so slightly as the same realization fully sunk in for him, "It seems that there are things that our Houses still need to consider." 

Mei looked between Alfred and Kiku, confused by the sniping they were both doing, and startled at the realization they had both come to. 

"Truce until the meeting," Alfred said finally. "We do nothing until the city-wide meeting, alright? That's all I think either side is willing to offer today." 

"Agreed." Kiku said, rising and extending his hand to Alfred as he did so, the note from Leon palmed in it. 

Alfred accepted his hand, noticing the slip of paper but also holding a moment too long and catching Kiku's eyes before dropping his hand again. 

Kiku nodded once to him, "Good day to you both." 

"Good day," Alfred said, stiffly as Mei rose with Kiku and remained quiet.  Kiku hesitated for the briefest of moments before turning and leaving, holding the door for Mei on the way out as he had on the way in. 

Cameron glanced at his nephew, pulling out a cigarette as he did so, "So Arthur thought it'd be a good idea for the two of ye to do these talks because...ye get along?" 

"We used to," Alfred shrugged. "Doesn't mean we're going to." 

Cameron snorted at that, shoving himself to his feet, "Better hope ye figure out how. I don't wanna have to sit in on meetings between Arthur and the Head of their House instead." 

"Yes, my life revolves around your wishes, Uncle," Alfred snapped.

"No, it doesn't. But it sure as hell revolves around Arthur's right now. Ye want that to change, ye show him ye can do the job he set ye," Cameron suggested, setting the cigarette between his lips but not lighting it. 

"Did you realize the Russians and Germans are allied now?" Alfred asked instead. "And the only job Arthur sent me to do was figure out what they wanted and scope out possibilities. He offered shit they aren't going to negotiate." 

"Sounded to me like Yao did the same thing on the other side," Cameron said with a shrug. "Neither of 'em are going to give ground and everyone knows it." 

"Yeah, Cameron, focus," Alfred said. "The Germans and the Russians." 

"I heard ye the first time, lad," Cameron said. "We'd better get back and make sure Arthur's remembering about them and that problem quick like." 

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, shoving back from the table.


	36. It's Technically Your Fault We Have This Problem

Kiku was silent for the walk back to the Asian House, disinclined to talk about whatever had happened at the meet while he mulled it over for himself. Mei, however, felt less inclined to remain silent. "What was that? Your version of a lover's spat?"

"I do not know. Perhaps?"

"Perhaps?" she asked.

"I was, I was not expecting that. We have not had reason to fight and I am uncertain why that happened now."

"So was it a fight? Or just him being angry?"

"I think it was him being angry." Kiku paused, sighing very softly, "I did not handle it well."

"Yao would have noticed," she said. "You've been slipping, since you started seeing him. The phone, that conversation."

He nodded very slightly, gaze flickering away from her briefly, "I know. I feel like I am starting to unravel at the seams with the tension of it."

"You can't be this obvious," Mei said. "The meeting is coming and Yao is going to see the two of you together. Figure it out. Tear your heart out if you have to for both of your sakes, pull it together."

Kiku nodded again, "I will."

"I do not want to see you hurt," she admitted. "I don't care so much about him but... him hurt hurts you now."

"I will be careful. And will find a way to tamp everything down before the meeting," Kiku promised her.

"Good," Mei nodded and went back to scanning the streets as they reentered Asian territory.

Kiku was silent for a long moment before speaking softly again, "I had very nearly forgotten about the mess that the Russian-German alliance will cause."

"Yes," she agreed. "It's why Yao pushed for the city-wide meeting, after all. To have everything out in the air about... well, the power imbalance that caused."

"This is not going to end well no matter what happens with it."

"No," she agreed and sighed.

Kiku fell silent again, finally pushing open the door to the House, "We should go let Yao know how little came of this meet."

"Alright," she said, feeling subdued.

Kiku paused, turning to look at her. He offered her the slightest upward tilt of his lips, "Thank you, Mei."

"I wouldn't thank me for anything," she replied, shaking her head.

"Not even for being you and worrying about me?" He asked, only just audible to her.

"No," she said with a small shake of her head. "Report to Yao."

Kiku nodded very slightly to her and made his way to Yao's office, knocking lightly on the door. "Did they bother to offer anything?" Yao asked.

Kiku shook his head very slightly, "Nothing but a truce until the city-wide meeting."

"Which we unofficially already had," Yao said, folding his hands in his sleeve.

"That was all they offered. It appeared that there was no authorization for negotiations on their side."

"Which was only expected," Yao said. "I gave you no authorization either."

"And I offered them nothing but what we unofficially already had. And I was not the one to offer even that," Kiku replied.

Yao nodded. "As I expected then. At least we may hope for no sneak attacks. Are you ready to go out again?"

Kiku blinked once at that question, "I can be. Where are we going?"

"To a meeting with the German House," Yao said pushing himself to his feet. His heir nodded and stepped back to allow Yao to lead on the way out.

o-o-o

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Gilbert asked, sprawled back in a chair looking unconcerned but his eyes kept roving around.

"It's technically your fault we have this problem," Ludwig replied. "So. Yes."

Roderich's lips quirked into a hint of a smile at that exchange and glanced back toward Vash as Yao and Kiku entered the restaurant, crossing to the table. Suong entered a pace behind them, her dark eyes sweeping around the room and judging every entrance and exit.

"I am glad you could come," Ludwig greeted stiffly as Yao sat down across from him.

"I was happy you finally took the initiative to offer a meeting," Yao replied and Gilbert tensed, keeping his mouth shut.

Kiku glanced at Yao out of the corner of his eye, but knew better than to react more than that. Vash leaned back in his chair, sizing up Suong as she did the same of the Germans.

"Really," Ludwig deadpanned. "Well, from our brief talk over the phone, I believe you articulated quite well the problem we have."

"Yes," Yao said. "We are mutually allied with the Russians and you are allied with the English. I will not be part of that."

Roderich bit back the first, scathing question that came to mind regarding why they were the ones expected to give up an alliance in that case, knowing that this was for Ludwig to negotiate as much to prove himself to Yao as anything. Ludwig blinked once. "I believe you are underestimating our alliance with the Russian House," he said after a beat. "To think you can make all the demands here. We have most of the city behind us, and a stronger alliance with Ivan than you do."

"Do you?" Yao asked, tense. "Even though ours came first?"

"Yes," Ludwig said without missing a beat. "But that is not the point. The point is, we have a problem, and this is a meeting in which we try and solve it."

"How do you suggest we solve it?" Kiku asked directly, gaze focused on Ludwig.

"You say you cannot stand to be allied with the English, even indirectly," Ludwig said. "We will break that alliance, as the English have offered us very little and we value our relationship with the Russians more, and I know they value your alliance for being willing to ally with them when few would. In return, we will have a pact short of an alliance."

"Short?" Yao asked, hands folded in his lap.

"Yes," Ludwig said. "If you go to war with the English, we will stay out of it on both sides. I have no interest in being drawn into your squabble. However, if the war spills out into the Russians and they come under attack, we will aid both them and you as it has become a war against one of our allies. But we will not go to war simply for your sake. However, trade negotiations, neutrality, and anything else that you might wish to negotiate is still on the table."

Suong drew her gaze away from the Germans to glance at Yao from the corner of her eye. She had been his guard since he became Head and had sat through many a negotiation with him, the Germans were offering both less and more than expected all at once.

"You would break an alliance to gain... something less in return?" Yao asked, blinking once.

"The English offered us little," Ludwig repeated. "The Russians did. This is to appease both them and you but I am also not interested in a petty squabble of a war. I will not turn around and use our combined might to simply crush another House."

Yao arched his brows at Ludwig again. "You seem rather secure in your alliance with the Russians."

"Yes," Ludwig said. "We will not betray them again, and our alliance is strong now."

"And you really think that if I go to war with Kirkland, and Braginski comes to help, he really won't be offended by you sitting out?" Yao demanded.

"Yes," Ludwig said. "Our alliance is probably even stronger than yours, despite being newer now. I would not push it, but neither will I allow you to try and push us with Braginski as a fulcrum."

"And why the fuck would your alliance be stronger?" Yao snapped.

Roderich crossed his hands on the tabletop, speaking calmly, "Because he pursued it. Albeit indirectly."

"He did?" Yao frowned.

"Let's just say, our alliance is based on many things," Ludwig said and smiled.

Gilbert wanted to kick him. "Brother," he groused. "Shut up."

Roderich cast a glance past Ludwig to Gilbert, a hint of a smile tugging his own lips before he cleared his expression and turned back to the others at the table. Kiku looked between Gilbert and Ludwig, considering the words already spoken, "This has to do with you being back, does it not?"

"Er," Gilbert said. "This isn't about my personal life, except it is, and this is not the point of the negotiation."

"You're the one who spoke up first," Ludwig replied sweetly.

"You were the one toting around my, uh," Gilbert shook his head. "Never mind."

Kiku didn't react beyond a single blink and a nearly imperceptible twitch of his lips downward, but he felt something uncomfortably similar to jealousy curling in his stomach as he looked at Ludwig, "That is the primary reason, is it not? That you believe you have a stronger alliance with the Russians."

Ludwig shrugged slightly. "Perhaps."

Yao narrowed his eyes, hands folded over his chest as he considered. "And the pact of nonaggression would be solid between our Houses?"

"Yes," Ludwig agreed readily. Vash leaned back in his chair, watching Yao and then letting his attention drift over Kiku to where Suong was considering Gilbert appraisingly.

"Fine," Yao said after a moment. "I accept the terms you have offered."

Kiku and Suong both blinked at that, Suong turning her head just enough to look at Yao before catching herself and turning back to the Germans again.

"With further negotiations and tweaking, of course," Yao added and Ludwig inclined his head, Gilbert still looking mutinous and annoyed beside him.

"Would you prefer to discuss those now, or over time?" Roderich asked, most of his attention on Yao, though some small part of it was paying attention to the Asian House's heir as well.

"Some now, some later before anything is signed," Yao said folding his hands over the table and Ludwig nodded again. Gilbert rose and slipped away to place a quiet call to Francis before returning to the table and letting the negotiations wash over him as he watched only for danger. Kiku kept himself from fidgeting through long experience, listening to the negotiations and counting minutes until he would be able to contact Alfred and warn him about this shift.

Gilbert mostly ignored the few angry texts from Francis, focusing instead with a tiny half smile on watching Ludwig at work. Finally the meeting broke up with handshakes and agreements on when they would next talk. Vash and Suong rose in the same moment, eying each other up and down before Vash took a step back and pointedly put his hands behind his back and away from any visible weapons.

Ludwig shook his head slightly as Yao swept out of the room. Suong glanced at Kiku but left immediately on Yao's heels, Kiku taking a moment longer to rise to follow. Ludwig watched him. "I am sorry about this," he said, voice low.

Kiku paused at that, blinking twice and looking at Ludwig in confusion, "It is politics."

"The night at the fair didn't look like it was," Ludwig said.

Eyes widening ever so slightly, Kiku drew a sharp breath and his gaze darted to the other members of the German House who were present, "I fear you misunderstood." It was a bad lie and he knew it was a bad lie, "This is politics. Good day and good health to you." He ducked his head and quickly left to catch up to Yao.

"Ah," was all Ludwig said.

"And what the fuck was that, brother?" Gilbert asked.

"I saw him one night with the English heir," Ludwig said faintly so only Gilbert could heat. "Did you see his face when I mentioned you and Ivan?"

Gilbert frowned. "No. But I can imagine it now."

o-o-o

After arriving back at the House, Kiku made to excuse himself and was relieved that Yao let him go rather than inquire about Leon's rather public display of apparent affection earlier that day. He had a call he needed to make and he was uncertain that he could effectively lie to Yao at the moment.

"The House is going crazy," Alfred greeted him. "Congrats on scoring the Germans I guess?"

"It is not something I wanted," Kiku replied, his voice strained.

"I know," Alfred said mutedly.

"It is not exactly an alliance at least," Kiku murmured, still trying to order his thoughts. He paused, "How did you hear of it so soon?"

"The brother, er, the albino? He's like best friends with Francis; he already called. They're like... really good friends, like when he got back Francis was at the German House that day and not like an official call to say congrats on coming home I mean he was there for four hours. So. Arthur is in a blind panic, Francis is mad, and Cameron is being an asshole. Gave Matthew the note in the confusion. Man we are all such fucked up people."

"Ludwig knows," Kiku managed to get out, wincing very slightly as he realized he could have worded that more clearly or more gently.

"That we’re all fucked up people?" Alfred asked in confusion.

"No, no about us," Kiku stammered out. "He apologized to me for, for all of this."

Alfred fell silent a long moment. "Fuck. The fair. Him and the kid from the... the Roman House."

Kiku nodded, knowing it wasn't seen, "Yes. He, he waited until Yao was out of the room so I believe that he will not tell about us, but..."

"But that's a fuck of a bargaining chip to hold!"

"Exactly. I do not trust him, and now he is in negotiations with Yao," Kiku paused, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes. "Stay safe."

"Yeah," Alfred sighed. "You too. Stay intact for me alright?"

"I will," Kiku promised quietly.

"Good," Alfred said. "Gotta go, Arthur is blowing his shit up again."

"Good luck," Kiku murmured, hanging up and erasing all record of the call and Alfred's number from the phone as had become his habit since Mei had discovered the one in his room when he was injured.

o-o-o

"Can't think of a guard and can't think of an heir," Antonio sighed, twirling the summons around in one hand. "What a sorry state for a Head to be in."

"You could just take Lars as your guard," Lovino pointed out, cleaning one of his guns. "You'll still need an heir though."

Antonio looked at him, thoughtful. "Lars over you as guard?"

"He's technically your primary official guard now," Lovino said, looking up and meeting Antonio's eyes.

Antonio kept watching him. "And what about as heir?"

Lovino's eyebrows rose at that and then he shook his head, "Hell if I know."

"Not quite what I meant," Antonio said.

Setting the gun down and wiping his hands free of gun oil, Lovino frowned, "What did you mean then?"

"If not as my guard then why not as heir?" Antonio asked, meeting his gaze levelly.

Lovino stared at him in shock, "You have got to be kidding. We've talked about this, haven't we? The fact that I would make a fucking awful heir and an even worse Head. Do we remember this?"

"Vaguely," Antonio said. "Frankly the greatest impediment would be the fact I'm almost convinced we would never outlive each other, not because of an innate lack of skill. It would solve the problem of what to do with you as well." He sighed. "If only that was a solution."

Sighing and rubbing his eyes, Lovino nodded very slightly, "Well....it could, it could be a temporary one. Would get you two trained guards into the meeting at least."

Antonio remained sitting. "Really?"

"Well, I mean....Not permanently obviously because you're right we won't outlive each other. Hell I don't _want_ to outlive you as much as being your heir implies. But as a placeholder?" Lovino shrugged very slightly.

"It sends the right message," Antonio said faintly and frowned like he was annoyed by his own politicking.

Lovino snapped the last piece of his gun back in place, holstering it, "You mean the former Head's grandson as your heir?"

"Something like that."

"It shows a unity in the House, and this city-wide meet is certainly the place to prove that." Lovino paused for a moment, "Our big problem would be if you changed heirs after, though. Because that could undo the entire message."

"Unless I find a better one," Antonio said.

The younger man nodded very slightly, "It is the right message to send at the moment though."

"Are you sure?" Antonio asked still watching him closely.

"Am I sure you naming me heir is a good idea? No. I still think I'm a fucking mistake for that position." Lovino ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a breath, "But I also don't have any other fucking ideas."

"It would be weak to have no heir," Antonio said. "Did you hear?" He asked, lifting another sheet of paper. "Even the fucking Nordics declared an heir."

Lovino frowned at that, his eyebrows drawing together, "Who did they name?"

"Sigurd, of course,” Antonio said.

"Of course," Lovino said after a moment. "You can't go to the meeting without an heir. It's just...not an option."

Antonio reached a hand out. "Yet you resent this already."

"It's," Lovino sighed, considering Antonio's hand for a long moment before taking it, "It's complicated. Yeah, I do resent it. Sort of. But also not? I don't know."

Antonio pulled him forward, finally smiling. "You're always complicated. I'm getting used to it."

Lovino snorted, going with the motion until he was standing right in front of Antonio, "That's good, cause I'm not changing it. This is a bad idea for exactly the opposite reasons that me being your guard is."

"Am I ever going to have a good idea?"

"A completely good one?" Lovino asked, half smiling. "You have them sometimes. It's just...complicated usually."

Antonio laughed, the sound freer then it had been recently. "Yeah?"

Lovino offered him a grin, leaning in to rest a hand on the back of Antonio's chair, "Yeah."

Antonio tugged him down further. "So what are my good complicated ideas?"

"Us," Lovino replied simply, not even sparing a glance toward the closed door as he settled onto Antonio's lap. "It's good, but damn does it complicate things."

"I was going more for say, going out dancing or hanging the painting but that works too." "Dancing led to this. And, I still have mixed feelings about that painting, but yes those were good too."

"I like the painting," Antonio said, hooking his chin on Lovino's shoulder, hands spread on his back. "And dancing. So I guess I like complicated."

Lovino shifted his shoulder just enough to change the angle Antonio's chin was resting at so it wasn't digging into his shoulder uncomfortably, "Good for me in that case."

Antonio grinned, hands trailing up and down his back, pulling at the fabric. "Good for you, good for me."

Lovino kissed Antonio lightly before finally glancing at the closed door, "We should probably at least try to look like we're being productive in your office."

"We are being productive," he returned. "You are my heir now. That's productive."

Lovino huffed out a quiet laugh and shook his head, "We were being productive." He let himself rake his fingers through Antonio's dark hair, "Now, I'm not so sure."

"A different form of productivity." Antonio tilted his head back, fingers digging into his spine.

Arching at the touch, Lovino made a soft sound in the back of his throat, "At least people knock on your office door. Usually."

"Yes," Antonio agreed. "I'm sure they would not be stupid enough not to knock. All things considered." Lovino nodded once, but didn't say anything further before leaning in and kissing Antonio, his hands trailing down to rest on Antonio's shoulders. "I love you," Antonio said, mouth pressed against the side of Lovino's neck.

Lovino hesitated for a moment, he didn't verbally reply often, even after confessing that he loved the other, but he pressed his lips to the dip at the back of Antonio's jaw, just under his ear, "Ti adoro."

Antonio's grin split his face as he pulled back to take Lovino's face in both his hands, dragging him into a kiss. Lovino hummed into the kiss, parting his lips under Antonio's as he curled his fingers around the front of his shirt. "Are we in agreement then?" Antonio asked, when he finally drew away. "At least until after this meeting?"

"At least until then," Lovino agreed with a nod.

"Alright," Antonio grinned. "Then I'm ready to go back to the kissing and think of nothing else for a while."

Offering him a smile, Lovino settled himself more comfortably in Antonio's lap, "I like the sounds of that."

"Good," Antonio murmured, already drawing him back in.

o-o-o

Arthur looked up as Matthias sat down across from him. His normally impeccable suitcoat was slightly rumpled and the shirt underneath looked as though it had been pressed incorrectly and then re-ironed hastily. There were dark circles under his eyes and his blonde hair was wispy across his brow as he managed a tense smile for the Head of the Nordic House, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"Assuming I know what you're about to ask?" Matthias said, hands folded in front of him as Sigurd sat on his right, Berwald on his left. "The answer is probably going to be no."

Arthur cast a quick glance to where Cameron was lounging to his left and then turned back to Matthias, "I know you would prefer to stay out of conflicts involving the other Houses. I can't blame you, all things considered." He hesitated, biting back the request for an alliance which he already knew the answer to, "What I'm asking for is an _official_ guarantee and declaration of your neutrality."

"You know even asking for that is madness," Sigrid said quietly.

Arthur narrowly bit off a bark of laughter at that, running a hand across his mouth as he shook his head, "That is the least mad thing I've considered in the past days." He hesitated again, "I don't _need_ the declaration. I'm asking for an actual neutrality pact though. We've had an implicit one for years."

"Which we just reconfirmed," Matthias pointed out.

"Excuse me for double checking again with my last alliance having abruptly disappeared from under my feet," Arthur said, nearly snapping. He drew a steadying breath at a quiet sound from Cameron, "I'm sorry, you're right. We did just reconfirm it."

"It is not bad to confirm it again," Matthias said, steepling his fingers. "But you cannot expect more than that."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly, "No, no you're right, I can't. And I knew that, know that."

Matthias tried to keep his expression from turning pitying. "Sorry. But you're right, you knew already."

Arthur drew a deep breath, pulling himself together and nodding as he and Cameron rose, "Yes. Thank you for once again being willing to reconfirm. Good day, Matthias."

"Good day," Matthias said quietly, Sigurd tilting his head back.

Berwald watched the two members of the English House leave before glancing at Matthias, "N't lookin' good." Matthias titled his head toward him. "Yeah?"

"Kirkl'nd," Berwald clarified. "Looks like hell. Meetin's not goin' t' be good."

"We already knew it was unlikely to be," Sigurd murmured. "He's stressed though."

Berwald nodded slightly, "Not surprisin'."

Sigurd drummed his fingers on the table. "He's turned into a wildcard. Who knows what mess he'll cause at the meeting, if not before?"

Berwald hummed in agreement, "Not stupid, but desp’rate. C'd be very bad."

"Yes," Matthias agreed. "Sigurd, you've always gotten him more than I ever have. You think it's bad?"

"It's bad," Sigurd nodded.

"N't a lot of people he c'n go to," Berwald murmured, glancing toward Sigurd again. "How bad?"

"He can be unpredictable, and protective," Sigurd said. "Poisoning at least one head and not taking his place until the next one died? If he thinks he or his own is in danger, he will lash out and probably start the next war, even if he claims—probably truthfully—Yao has driven him to it."

Berwald swore under his breath, but nodded slightly, filing the information away. When Sigurd drummed his fingers on the table again, Matthias caught his hand.

o-o-o

Gilbert's knee kept jumping as he looked around the street. It was a more obviously nervous gesture then he normally allowed. "So," he said, and shook his head at himself, still scanning the street instead of looking dead on at Lili.

Lili let her gaze wander, her fingers curled around her cup of coffee as she spoke, "I hope I didn't pull you away from anything to come out today."

"No," he said and finally looked over. "I mean that. I'm here for you. there's nothing more important than that to be pulled away from."

She offered him a faint smile, "Still. Thank you. I just, I needed to get out for a bit."

"I know that feeling," Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. "It's good to be outside. But it's still strange to me, after so long. I'm getting used to it again."

Lili hesitated for a long moment, not quite sure she wanted to ask, "Do you...Do you think Ludwig's made a good choice?"

"With you being heir?" Gilbert asked, still scanning the street.

She nodded very slightly, "Yes, that."

Gilbert turned his head to consider her for a long moment. "In time," he said. "If Ludwig died," and he had to swallow on the word. "Today, no, I don't think he did. You need more time, more training, to really come into your own. When you do though? Yeah, I think he did."

"Thank you," she said after a moment of considering those words.

"Doesn't cost my anything to say," Gilbert shrugged. "You'll be good one day, when you figure it out. You just need to grow into it, learn how to be assertive again."

"The vote of confidence from you—or confidence in what could be—means a lot," Lili said, turning her cup around in her hands for a moment.

Gilbert's mouth twitched and he looked away. "The crazy stupid vote is in your corner. Congratulations."

She took a drink of her coffee, considering him over the edge of the cup and shaking her head as she set it down again, "You're not stupid. And only a little crazy."

Gilbert laughed, shaking his head. "If you say so. You might have missed some spectacular fuck ups though. Anyway," he shook his head. "This is more about you. And sortta me. And us working together."

"Is there a concern there?" Lili asked, watching him.

"There's always a concern there," he said.

She dipped her chin in what might have been a nod, "I don't see why we won't be able to work together."

"But it has to be more with a guard and Head," Gilbert said, turning around and resting his elbows on the table, to better gesture. "We can't just work together. Your life might wholly depend on me. We have to be instinctual around each other and you have to trust me impeccably. It's not just colleagues getting along."

Lili tapped her fingers against the side of her cup twice before stilling her hand again, "Is it possible to really know that without ending up in a situation where it's needed? I mean, we can say we are, or that I trust you like that, but to actually _know_ it."

"It takes time," Gilbert said. "Guards usually know a Head for a long time, and that's why we're starting this now I guess. Winter knew Ivan since he was a baby, even Antonio and Lovino knew and, fuck, were in love with each other for years. ‘Tonio's having such a hard time finding a new guard for these exact reasons. So don't just say we'll be able to work together. We gotta figure it out."

Lili sat still and silent for a moment as she ran down the list of what she knew about Heads and guards before nodding again, "Alright. How do we go about it?"

"This is a start," he shrugged.

o-o-o

Leon had picked out a club tucked into an alley in the middle of neutral territory. It had been a cryptic note he finally sent to Matthew, but the lights were low and the dancers on the floor so focused on each other almost anything could happen around them and the writhing mass would barely notice. He perched on the catwalk with a good view toward the door, arms crossed over the bannister and wondering if perhaps his message had been too cryptic.

Pushing the door to the club open and stepping inside, Matthew let his gaze wander around the club as he categorized exits and places with poor sightlines, sticking mostly to the edges and shadows as he circled the room. Catching a glimpse of Leon up above, he changed direction just enough to approach the stairs, pushing his curl out of his face as he climbed.

"Hello," Leon said, leaning close to him as he approached to be heard over the music.

"Hello," Matthew greeted, his voice just audible over the music from below. "Good choice here."

Hands still on the bannister, Leon tilted his head into Matthew's shoulder, mouth almost at his ear. "I'm glad you approve of my choice." Most of the lights were black light, shadowing faces and turning the whole place into a neon wonderland.

Matthew focused for a moment on not shivering at that, tilting his head just enough so Leon would be able to hear him, "Dimly lit, location designed for distracting people? It's perfect. If a little loud."

"That's also part of the point," he said.

"Well, yeah, I figured that," Matthew said, his lips quirking slightly.

Leon breathed for a moment. "Why'd you come?"

"Because I wanted to," Matthew said. "Why did you set it up?"

"Because you asked me too," Leon said. He hesitated. "And because I wanted to." His chin moved, almost a nuzzling motion but not quite.

Matthew's breath hitched at that movement, "It was a good code. We need something other than phones though. They're too easy for other people to track."

"Internet chatboards," Leon said promptly. "Code. Could be talking to anyone, about anything."

He nodded once, barely a dip of his chin, "That's what I was thinking."

"The trick is just getting a good code then," Leon murmured, close enough to still be audible.

Matthew slid an arm around Leon's waist without really thinking about it, "That's also going to depend on the chatboard it's on. We don't want to stand out on it after all; that would defeat the purpose."

Still with his body facing the floor, Leon's breath hitched, breathing out against Matthew's neck. "I guess it's good we're both good with codes. And sneaky people by nature."

Matthew breathed a quiet laugh at that, the amusement not quite touching his expression, "You mean unlike the other inter-House mess?"

"They're a little too honest for their own good," Leon said. "So earnest."

"Alarmingly earnest sometimes." Matthew shook his head, "Alfred's going to need to tamp that down, Arthur's panicking and his paranoia's ratcheting up because of it."

"The Germans pulled out the rug under him, didn't they?" Leon said, shifting his hips slightly in Matthew's arm.

Matthew nodded very slightly, "He's up against a wall. The Nordics won't offer official neutrality, and the African House won't even speak with him. He hasn't approached the Latins, but we haven't ever really had any agreements with them that we didn't have with the Nordics. I doubt there would be any more than that offered on that front considering the way the city power has shifted again."

"He's still not weak though," Leon said, swallowing hard. "No one besides Yao wants to see the House destroyed."

"Which won't change the fact that if something gets really and truly fucked we'd be facing down more than half the city at this point. I know the agreement the Germans offered Yao, and I know Arthur won't even look wrong toward Russian territory which removes some of the threat, but," Matthew cleared his throat and shook his head. "I told myself I wasn't going to talk about this tonight."

"It's funny though," Leon said. "If only Arthur knew how much the younglings don't want to fight. Would that make his panic worse or better?"

Matthew considered that for a long moment, "Both I think. Because on the one hand, at least someone doesn't. But on the other, think about how he would react to knowing how long Alfred's been keeping things from him. And he wouldn't trust Kiku's motives. Not to mention the threat he would see to _his_ , you know?"

"And us?" Leon asked. "Would that make him feel better or worse?"

"I," Matthew drew a deep breath, his tone subdued, "I honestly don't know. I don't think he would be as angry as he would if Alfred and Kiku come to light. Or, not in the same way. But I think it would scare him. What Yao could do. What Yao might do."

"You notice neither of them like others touching what they consider theirs?" Leon asked after a beat.

"They're both possessive bastards," Matthew said, shaking his head once.

"I wonder," Leon said, pulling back and lifting his head so that he could meet Matthew's eyes. "How much of this is rebellion and anger at that concept?"

Matthew met Leon's gaze steadily, one hand resting on the bannister, "For you or for me?"

"Both, either," he shrugged, not looking away.

"More than I think either of us will admit, but less than we probably think," Matthew said, and then grimaced. "And god I need to stop talking to Arthur, because that was very much not an answer."

"It wasn't much of one," Leon agreed, and pressed his side hard against Matthew's, tilting his head again. "You can try again, if you can manage it."

"I know for me, that I can't promise that isn't some part of this. But I don't think it's very much of it. Not enough to actually influence my choice to take this risk," Matthew said.

"Then what does influence it?" Leon asked, mouth hovering close to Matthew's skin again without actually touching.

"I tore a page out of my journal," Matthew admitted, not directly answering.

"Why?" Leon pressed.

"Because after you left that shop I bought a glass fox and ended up writing about you."

"Tell me why you came tonight," Leon said, the music shifting and pounding around them, occasional flashes of neon reaching where they were.

Matthew briefly considered dissembling further, and dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred, "Because my mind ends up in knots when I think about you. Because you're attractive. Because I miss you, but that's not really it because I don't _know you_ anymore. Because I want to know you," Matthew drew a sharp breath. "There's so many reasons, but those are the biggest ones."

"You're right that we barely know each other anymore," Leon said, meeting his eyes again.

"Why did you set this up?" Matthew asked again.

"Because as soon as you asked, I couldn't stop thinking about it either," he said. "Because I don't remember being this stupid over you before."

Matthew moved his hand to rest on Leon's waist again, "This is probably stupidly reckless of both of us."

"Well it's not like we can allow Alfred to have the monopoly on that," Leon said, sounding for the first time at all affected.

"I'm not entirely sure that's a good reason," Matthew said, his lips twitching up ever so slightly.

"Jesus Christ, Mattie, just—"

Matthew turned to actually face him, registering the childhood nickname but not saying anything about it. Placing a gentle hand under Leon's chin and tipping it up, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the other's lips before his brain could supply him with the list of why that was a bad idea. Tightening his hands on the bannister until his knuckles were white, Leon pressed into the kiss with his whole body, biting Matthew's lower lip.

His hand tightening on Leon's waist, Matthew made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he arched his neck, changing the angle of the kiss. Leon made a sound between a whimper and an outright moan that was almost drowned out by the pulse of the music around them. Matthew drew back for breath, his forehead resting against Leon's, "Christ."

Leon hummed. "Not quite."

That earned a ghost of a smile, "You know what I meant."

"Are you sure about this?" Leon asked after a beat, as the music changed.

"Yes," Matthew said, his voice only just audible over the music. "Are you?"

"It seems stupid, for someone who's usually so careful," Leon said.

"I hold no illusions about how stupid and reckless this is. It doesn't make me any less sure about it, or make me want it any less," Matthew replied.

"Sometimes I remember who you're related to," Leon said, the corner of his mouth twitching up and still leaning against Matthew.

"You mean Al?" Matthew asked with the slightest hint of a grin.

"Even Arthur," Leon said. "Clearly I was not influenced at all by this upbringing."

"Right. Not at all," Matthew drawled in response.

"No, of course not," Leon said. "It's okay though, I haven't thought of you as a brother in a very long time." There was something strange and dark behind his eyes, even in the low light.

"Nor I you," Matthew admitted after a moment, trying to decipher the finer details of Leon's expression before speaking.

"It was rather drilled out of me," Leon said.

Matthew hesitated for a moment before reaching up to brush a thumb along Leon's cheekbone, his fingers tangling in the hair just behind his ear, "This is a bad idea for us to do."

"Yes, well, I did say I lived for rebellion," Leon said and finally turned in the circle of Matthew's arm. Matthew leaned in and pressed another kiss to Leon's lips.

o-o-o

Eva stuck her head out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her chest. "Eduardo! Turn that program the fuck off!"

"But," Eduardo said from down the hallway. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about!" she yelled. "I don't want to listen to the baby cheetahs dying!"

"It's nature!" he called back.

"I don't fucking care! I like to think of baby cheetahs as being happy and fluffy little rock stars, not dying!"

"You heard her, Eduardo, best do as she says," Sofía said, the end of her dark hair draped over her left shoulder as she finished her braid.

"Am I boss in this House or not?" Eva yelled, her eyes trained on Sofía.

"You just called cheetahs fluffy rock stars!" Eduardo called back, but the sound of the television became much more muted, though it did not stop entirely.

Dark eyes sparkling with the smile she was suppressing, Sofía tied off her braid as she met Eva's eyes, "Of course you're the boss in this House, cariña."

"I better fucking be," Eva said. "That little shit just turned the TV down, did you notice?"

"I did indeed," Sofía answered, a breath of a laugh in her voice. "At least it is harder to hear the fluffy little rock stars dying."

"If this becomes a thing," Eva warned, drawing herself up to her short height, hair still damp and only wearing a towel.

"That is the last I will tease you about it, I promise," Sofía said, brushing a kiss against Eva's cheek. "You should get dressed."

"Yes, yes," Eva said, obviously distracted for a moment.

"Shall I help you with that?"

"I would never get dressed," Eva said. "That would be counterproductive."

Sofía offered her a smile at that, stepping back and stretching the kinks out of her shoulders, "That's probably true."

"Yes, yes," Eva said, and stepped back, shutting the door.

"I can never tell if you're charmers, or pathetically weird," Ricardo remarked from further down the hallway, leaning against the doorframe.

"Charmers," Carmen said, from where she was coming out of her room.

"I am not sure if you supporting us in this case, actually helps our argument, Carmen," Sofía remarked.

Ricardo's eyes flickered over to her. "So, you're still going to the meeting as guard?"

Carmen nodded once, "That plan hasn't changed since it was first decided."

Ricardo crossed his arms and considered her. "Yeah, but... You ever gonna tell us who the father is?"

"There are," Carmen paused, considering, "a few things that need to be settled first."

"That bad huh," Ricardo asked.

"Something like that," Carmen agreed, earning an indelicate snort from Sofía.

"I wasn't aware the hallway was gossip central," Eva said, stepping out and looking completely put together in a stark business suit and with her hair braided, aside from her bare feet. She twisted her braid up into a bun, staring at the others with her brow raised.

"No gossip, Ricardo's just trying to get the same information out of me again," Carmen said.

"Might as well be gossip," Eva said. "Ricardo, we have somewhere to be. Chop chop."

Sofía brushed her finger tips over the back of Eva's hand, "We'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah," Eva said, watching her for a long moment before turning and strolling down the hall as if she was unconcerned.

Ricardo followed her silently until they almost reached the door. "You ever gonna actually tell her you're in love with her?"

"Shut up," Eva shot back promptly and Ricardo sighed.

"I can't tell if you're one of those epic love stories, the ones with all the longing and passion as you circle each other from across the floor, or just really a coward."

After they had left, Carmen glanced at where Sofía was still focused on the door, "Are you ever planning to have that conversation with her?"

"Not this week," Sofía answered, turning on her heel and calling into the room Eduardo was in on her way past, "Turn off the dying cheetahs, you've watched enough depressing nature documentaries already today."

"They're not depressing, they're nature!" he yelled back.

"Dead baby cheetahs which chirped adorably until they _died_ ," Sofía replied, raising her voice only because she was halfway down the hall.

"That's the circle of life!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when Eva refers to cheetah cubs as "fluffy little rock stars" this is the image she's thinking of: http://www.thebigcats.com/news/2005_0204_cheetah_cubs13.jpg
> 
> Introduced in this chapter:  
> Chile - Sofía  
> Ecuador - Eduardo  
> Vietnam - Suong


	37. We Have A Problem

Gilbert poked his head inside Ludwig's study. "I'm going out."

Ludwig looked up, a frown between his brows. "To see Ivan?"

"Good guess," Gilbert said. "Though I suppose it isn't much of a guess at all."

"You're going at night to Russian territory?" Ludwig asked. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? Even with the alliance it could be—"

"Come on," Gilbert laughed. "How many times did I go to that stupid casino anyway? I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," Ludwig said. "It just concerns me."

"Well he can hardly march into the middle of German territory," Gilbert said. "This seemed better, though neither option is that great." He paused, before laughing again. "We should get a house or something, on the edge of our territory."

"A love shack?" Ludwig asked wryly. "That's not something I ever expected from you."

Gilbert threw his head back. "Right? I wouldn't have either. We could get a dog for it or something."

"A dog?" Ludwig asked, trying to suppress his smile.

"You're right, maybe a cat," Gilbert said after a beat.

"I'm not sure I'd want a cat watching me, frankly," Ludwig said and Gilbert pressed his forehead against the doorjamb for a moment, trying to regain his composure. "But you will be careful?" Ludwig pressed.

"As much as I ever am, I promise," Gilbert said seriously. "Honestly. I'll watch myself."

"I expect you back in a timely fashion in the morning," Ludwig said and Gilbert laughed.

"Sure thing, brother," he said, hesitating for another moment at the door before slipping out, hand trailing along the doorjamb as he went.

He stopped to talk a brief moment with Vash before heading out the back door and to the garage. "Ah, baby," he said fondly, finding his motorcycle under a cover and in the back, not having been used in months. "I thought I missed running and my flute," he said, pulling the cover off and running a hand along the metal of the bike.

"It's been too long," he told the bike, before taking off for the Russian territory on it. The casino where Ivan had said he would be that night, and where Gilbert had gone many times in the past, was on the edge of Russian territory because they fully expected and desired other gang members to come and hand their money over in the vain hope of getting one up over the Russian House.

The Russians were most fond of their weapon dealing, but the casino gave them an advantage over the other territories that was deeply resented. Ivan's father had thought of it first though, and no one else could recreate it on the same scale, though the English and Asian Houses had respectively tried.

Leaving the bike in a VIP spot and grinning with all his teeth at the valet, Gilbert swaggered into the casino, the blast of music hitting him in the face first.

Even though he had not been there for months before Otho's death—any German in Russian territory after the pact had been broken would have been dead, technical neutrality of the casino or not—Gilbert recognized that it was a busy night. Glitter seemed to be falling from the ceiling, and everything sparkled, from the golden floor to the sequins on the clothes of the patrons to the sparkly outfits the dancers and waiters wore. The tables were crowded, patrons slipping between games and up the stairs to the private gaming rooms on the second floor. The third floor had other sorts of private rooms, and anything above that was a mystery. The whole building was open to the top floor, the rooms wrapping around the main chamber and branching out into the complex.

The whole room was buzzing and he felt it itch under his skin.

Gilbert held his hand up, catching some of the glitter that seemed to float in the air, looking around. The bottom floor was always well lit, but everything above that become progressively more shadowy. Strolling around the perimeter of the room, Gilbert kept finding himself looking up, feeling the pulse of the music in his chest. "Come on," he said to himself. "Where the hell are you anyway?"

"Were you looking for me?" Ivan asked from behind him and Gilbert jumped.

"Of course I was," he said, turning, and Ivan was leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, smile sharp as he looked at Gilbert. "Where you been?"

"Watching you," Ivan said, and there was a note of happiness hidden in his voice. "I got distracted."

"From actually coming to talk to me?" Gilbert asked, casual as he walked over, hands in his pockets.

"Yes," Ivan said and reached a hand out, grabbing Gilbert's chin and dragging him forward into a kiss in the middle of his own casino, glitter still floating in the air and getting in both of their hair, the stair railing caught between them. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Gilbert said, biting the corner of Ivan's mouth as he pulled away, Ivan's fingers clenching on his chin. "Thought I might surprise you."

Ivan giggled, sliding his fingers back into Gilbert's hair. "How sweet."

"Ah, shut the fuck up," Gilbert said. "Wanting to sleep with my boyfriend isn't sweet it's, uh, something else."

"Is that what you're here for?"

"Weren't you the one complaining about that?" Gilbert asked.

"Yes, perhaps, but here?" Ivan asked and Gilbert twitched.

"God, no, not here, I just came because I thought I would find you here, Jesus."

"Ah," Ivan grinned. "Well I guess you were correct about that." He threaded his fingers through Gilbert's hair. "You did find me here."

"Think you can leave any time soon?" Gilbert asked, sounding more breathless then he had a moment ago and Ivan paused.

"Soon," he agreed. "Come," he added, pulling Gilbert with him and up the stairs.

"We are not stopping by one of your rooms," Gilbert said, tensing when they reached the third floor, several whores in sparkling clothing leading various patrons around.

Ivan shot him a look over his shoulder as he led Gilbert by the hand. Gilbert let out a breath when they passed through the third floor and kept going up. "How many floors are there anyway?" Gilbert asked as Ivan stopped in front of a door, punching a code into a keypad and swiping a card through the reader to make it open.

"Five, probably," Ivan said, pulling Gilbert through the door and onto a catwalk across the space of the building.

"Whoa," Gilbert said, craning his neck down. Hidden in shadows, the catwalk could see all the way down to the bottom, where people were clustered around tables and kissing in darkened corners. Even the walkways around the second and third floor were mostly visible. Ivan kept going, clearly used to the view, and Gilbert followed, mostly focused on the glitter that had fallen into Ivan's hair.

"Just one thing to check," Ivan said, on the other end of the walkway, before turning a corner and entering a room that even from the catwalk was hard to see. Gilbert stopped in the doorway, his jaw dropping again.

"Have you finished tonight's report?" Ivan asked, stepping into a room filled with screens, various rooms around the casino and different recorders, obviously hard at work capturing different conversations. A blond man in a red coat, turned around and Gilbert was struck by how pointy his canines were when he smiled.

"Yes, though Zhivko is still down on the floor," the man said, gesturing to one of the screens, showing a fairly nondescript man in a dark grey suit and black gloves standing and listening to several, obviously drunk patrons try and explain something to him. "But we got everything in from the different agents around the place, it's just not all compiled yet."

"Good," Ivan said and the man and Gilbert stared at each other, clearly surprised about the other. "Ah, Gilbert. This is Sergiu, and Sergiu—"

"Oh, I know who Gilbert is," Sergiu grinned, and Gilbert was struck again by his teeth, but also what that smile seemed to mean.

"Holy shit," he managed.

"Wow, you actually look surprised," Sergiu said.

"You never come to the House, do you?" Gilbert asked after a beat.

"Naw, all my work is done here," Sergiu said, giving Ivan a long look, as Ivan considered Gilbert in obviously growing distress at what he had just revealed.

"Come then," Ivan said to Gilbert, glancing at Sergiu. "I will have that report?"

"To your phone, by midnight," Sergiu agreed. "Nice to finally meet you, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert said, Ivan taking his hand again and pulling him out of the room, shutting the door on Sergiu and his banks of surveillance equipment. "Holy shit," Gilbert said again, once they were on the catwalk and Ivan stopped. Turning, Gilbert braced himself on the railing and looked down, wondering if he could pick the black-haired man from the monitor out in the crowds below.

Ivan obviously hesitated behind him, so tense Gilbert could feel it.

"So tell me," Gilbert said after a beat. "Just how much does your intelligence network beat up Roderich's?"

"From what I can tell, quite a lot," Ivan said, and when Gilbert turned his head, Ivan had his vacant smile on. "This building was designed—"

"As a giant intelligence-gathering machine," Gilbert finished for him, and Ivan's expression did not change, except it felt even further away. "Holy shit." He turned his head back, looking at the floor. "I used to come here, all the time."

"I know," Ivan said and Gilbert shivered.

"I even brought Ludwig here."

"I know," Ivan repeated.

"Nobody really knows, do they?" Gilbert asked, hands on the railing and not wanting to see Ivan's expression again. "What this place actually stands for? How fucking good at this you are."

"No," Ivan agreed.

"Damn," Gilbert breathed. "Damn—" He stopped, watching the floor for a moment. "You said, a long time ago, you used to watch me, and it made you—was that here?"

"Yes," Ivan said, and his voice dropped slightly, out of the high pitched giggle he had been using, and it made a shiver go up Gilbert's spine. Suddenly he moved into Gilbert's space, his chest pressing against Gilbert's spine as his hands came up around Gilbert, settling on the railing next to his own. "I would watch you when you came in," he said, nuzzling into Gilbert's hair. "I would watch you laugh, and fight, and when Feliks punched you, and when you lost at cards and won at roulette."

Gilbert tilted his head into Ivan's touch. "Creeper."

Ivan's fingers tightened, and Gilbert lifted his hands to cover Ivan's larger ones. "You were very arresting," Ivan said.

"And now you're flattering me," Gilbert said, and Ivan stepped closer, crowding Gilbert against the railing and making him dizzy for a second at how close he was to falling.

"I watched you so much," Ivan said, against his ear, and Gilbert turned his head. "I tried not to. I considered not."

"You could have come and said hello," Gilbert said, even knowing that months ago he would have laughed in Ivan's face and tried to run away, rather than carry on any sort of conversation with him. Ivan seemed to know that too, because instead of answering, he pressed his mouth against Gilbert's, biting his bottom lip and holding him pressed into the railing.

"We should," Gilbert tried. "We should. Go back—to the house. Now. Now would be good."

Ivan kissed him again, and Gilbert was dazzled from the height, the glitter, and the brightly lit floor and shadows they stood in.

"Winter," Ivan said, into a radio Gilbert hadn't even noticed. "We will be returning now."

There was a crackle of static followed by, "Alright."

Gilbert kissed Ivan this time, a nipping and quick kiss before pulling away. This time he took Ivan's hand first, even though he let Ivan lead the way down the stairs. Winter was waiting by the door, and the rush of night air made color rise in Gilbert's cheeks. But he breathed easier.

"How did you get here?" Ivan asked, Winter staring at Gilbert.

"Bike," he said, and pointed out the motorcycle. "You could ride with me."

"Really?" Ivan asked and Winter blanched.

"Ivan," he said. "That is not—"

"I am trained as a guard," Gilbert pointed out, trying not to grin in the face of Winter's distress.

"But not his guard," Winter said.

"I'll take care of him until we get to the house," Gilbert said, because Ivan had been staring at the bike and Gilbert like they were both beautiful and it made a weird sensation crawl down Gilbert's skin.

Winter opened his mouth, looked at Ivan, and nodded. "I will follow in the car," he said finally.

"I'll go slow," Gilbert said. "Don't have a helmet for you anyway."

"That's alright," Ivan said, and his smile was not vacant or closed off at all when he looked back at Gilbert. "I trust you."

Gilbert looked baffled for a moment before he laughed it off. "Alright," he said, swinging his leg over the bike and pulling on his helmet, feeling Ivan settle in behind him. It made his stomach swoop, Ivan's arms wrapping around his waist much as they had earlier on the catwalk. Kicking the stand up, he roared the bike to life and veered out of the parking lot, Winter following in Ivan's sleek black car that Gilbert had rarely seen before. "This okay?" he called over the sound of the wind and traffic and felt Ivan laugh against his back.

o-o-o

Bright and early, Natalia and Ykaterina made their way down to breakfast, Natalia only half listening as her older sister chattered on. She had been trying to pay more attention to Ykaterina, wondering if it would make a difference in the apathy she tended to feel. So far it hadn't changed much. Stepping into the dining room a pace ahead of Ykaterina, Natalia came to a dead stop at the sight of Gilbert at the table, seated comfortably at Ivan's side and a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Good morning," Ivan said, reading something on his phone.

Natalia continued to stand there blinking before Ykaterina pushed lightly at her shoulder and stepped past her, "Good morning, brother. Gilbert." Ykaterina fetched food from the buffet table and slid into her normal seat, Natalia following after another moment.

"Good morning," Gilbert said, once he had inhaled half the cup. "This really fucking early morning."

"You said your brother wanted you back," Ivan said cheerfully. "And that you wanted to have breakfast."

"So you won't be staying with us today?" Natalia finally got her voice to work, almost managing to sound disinterested.

"Not today," Gilbert said. "Why, miss me?" and he gave her a shit-eating grin.

Her smile was thin and her eyes sharp, "Got used to you being here, that's all." She didn't flinch as Ykaterina pinched her leg in warning.

"Yeah? So did I. Times still change," Gilbert said, Ivan watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"Are Eduard and Raivis joining us this morning?" Ykaterina asked before Natalia could say anything else.

"As far as I know," Ivan said, still watching Gilbert like he was surprised he was there too.

There was a startled sound in the doorway, Natalia turning her head to look in that direction as Eduard recovered himself and moved over to the table, Raivis just behind him, "Sorry we're late, sir."

Raivis gaped at Gilbert much more obviously than anyone else in the room, taking his seat automatically.

Eduard poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, glancing at Gilbert, "You're here...early."

"Late," Natalia corrected, poking at the food on her plate and not looking up.

"Yeah, late more like," Gilbert said, giving Ivan a sly smile, making Ivan duck his head down.

"Oh my god," Raivis whispered, shocked.

Eduard shushed Raivis, searching for something else to say when the first things to come to mind were questions he couldn't ask about if Gilbert knew anything about Toris and how he was.

"You're actually in a relationship?" Raivis blurted too loud and Gilbert and Ivan both turned to look at him. "I mean, I heard that but I-I-I…" Eduard made a strangled sound and Ykaterina nearly choked on her breakfast at that question. Eduard stared at Raivis, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find a way to mitigate what had just been said.

Ivan's expression had shut down, which was what pushed Raivis into stammering, but Gilbert just laughed. "We were sleeping together when I was here. That was pretty obvious, wasn't it?"

"Y-yeah but not, not a relationship that's actually," and Raivis snapped his mouth shut again, meekly staring at Ivan.

"Raivis," Eduard murmured, shaking his head firmly and really wishing Toris was there.

"Aw, it's not that surprising," Gilbert said, finishing the coffee in his cup and pushing himself up. As he moved, he trailed his fingers across the back of Ivan's shoulders, tangling in his scarf for a second.

Natalia watched Gilbert, her eyes focused on his touch to Ivan's scarf and then darting up to his face, "You said you can't stay today?"

Gilbert nodded, inclining his head at Winter who stood next to the sideboard with all the food—and most importantly the coffee pot.

"Yeah. Business. That meetings only in a couple days." He came back over with his new coffee cup, leaning his hip against Ivan's chair and casually draping his free arm over Ivan's shoulder as he sipped his coffee. "Speaking of, it looks like everyone else has scrambled to name an official heir."

"Does that mean you think Ivan should?" Natalia asked, watching Gilbert and tilting her head slightly to one side. She didn't move when Ykaterina pinched her again except to reach down and dig her fingernails into Ykaterina's hand until it moved.

"Never said anything about should," Gilbert said. "But you're gonna stand out."

"Is that a bad thing?" Ivan asked, finally seeming to uncoil enough to look up to Gilbert.

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. You always stand out anyway."

"It is not a decision to be made quickly or lightly and there is not that much time before the meeting," Ykaterina said after a moment.

"No," Gilbert agreed, taking another sip. "Oh by the way," Gilbert said after a beat. "Think I can raid Toris' room for him?"

Ykaterina fell very still and Natalia blinked twice at Gilbert as though he had grown another head, and possibly a couple of extra limbs. Eduard's eyes widened and he darted a glance at Ivan. Ivan stared at Gilbert for a long moment, taking in that he still seemed perfectly relaxed and comfortable against the side of his chair, the heat of him pressing into Ivan. He narrowed his eyes and Gilbert gave him back an innocent expression.

"Sure," he said finally, a concession no one else really realized he was making.

Eduard stared at his boss in shock for a half a moment more before looking away and speaking quietly, "I can show him to Toris' room, if you like, sir."

"Alright," Ivan said.

"Thanks, hon," Gilbert said, kissing his cheek and taking his coffee to the door with him. Ivan stared after him like he had not quite been prepared for the hurricane.

Eduard hesitated for a split second and then rose, following Gilbert out of the room. Ivan blinked at the door again before staring at everyone else. Raivis paused for a beat before clattering after Eduard and Gilbert.

Glancing over his shoulder as he heard Raivis following them, Eduard slowed his steps to let him catch up. Once he was sure they were all out of hearing range of the dining room he spoke to Gilbert, "Is Toris alright?"

"Toris is doing fine," Gilbert said, walking and drinking coffee. "Mostly fine, anyway."

"Good," Eduard said, finally pushing open the door to Toris' room. "I'm glad."

"Yeah?" Gilbert asked. "That's it?"

"What else do you want us to say?" Raivis asked. "You're—you're not only sleeping with Ivan you're his lover."

"Raivis," Eduard said, his tone sharp. He turned back to Gilbert, "What would you rather I say? I'm glad he's doing alright. He needed—" He broke off, deciding it was wiser not to say anything else.

"To not be here," Gilbert finished, rifling through his closet. "He wore this a lot right? I think I recognize it?"

"To feel safer," Eduard murmured, stepping up next to Gilbert and nodding at the jacket he held before pulling a few more things out as well.

"Well, that might be relative," Gilbert said after a beat. "I mean, it's not, but it is."

"He's with Feliks. It makes a difference," Eduard said, setting the things in his hands on the bed.

"Now, if Feliks and Ludwig would stop fighting," Gilbert muttered. "Sorry, not fighting. Declaring a cold war."

Eduard's lips quirked for the briefest of moments, "That would require Feliks to get along with someone not Toris."

Gilbert huffed out a laugh.

"But," Raivis paused, having pulled out several books he knew Toris had liked. "Ivan knows, that, well, you know where they are.”

"And he's letting that stand too," Eduard said, sounding surprised as he crossed to the dresser and pulled a few items out.

"Yeah, well," Gilbert shrugged it off, finally setting the cup down to pick through Toris' side table.

"Why are you back?" Raivis asked. "With him. You got out too."

Eduard laid the shirts he held out on the bed, considering the selection even as he listened to see if Gilbert would answer that question.

Gilbert looked at Raivis, who at his stare looked like he wanted to go and crawl under the bed. "You're not getting the concept of someone actually liking Ivan, are you?"

Raivis stared at him. "You are crazy, aren't you?"

"Raivis," Eduard cautioned again, though he was staring at Gilbert in confusion.

"Yeah, it's a pretty weird notion for you," Gilbert said after a beat.

"He abducted you. And broke your ribs. Twice," Eduard said. "Yes, it's a weird notion."

"To be perfectly honest, I'm still trying not to think about that less then awesome part," Gilbert said.

Eduard offered him a long look before going over to the closet and kneeling down to pull a shoebox out and withdrawing a couple of small things he knew Toris had kept because of associations with Feliks, "That sounds like a good idea. How did you get here?"

"I drove," he said. He considered what was already on the bed. "My bike."

"We need to pare this down further," Eduard said, getting to his feet and moving over to the bed again.

"Sure," Gilbert said. "Can get quite a lot on that bike though."

Eduard considered him for a moment at that, "You would know better than we would. Is there anything you left that you wanted to take with you?"

Gilbert stopped, having been flipping through a few of Toris' books. "Is my plant still alive?"

Eduard blinked at him once and then nodded, "Yes, it's still alive. Raivis, can you go get that plant from the kitchen?"

"You moved my plant to the kitchen?" Gilbert asked. "Wouldn't that be bad for it?"

"Light, air, and we have an easier time watering it there," Eduard answered. "With you gone there...isn't much reason to go into your old room."

"But aren't kitchens hot and shit?" Gilbert asked, Raivis already having left. "I guess it doesn't matter, really."

"When there's cooking being done, sure. Most of the time, if the plant's right by the window, it's easier to mediate," Eduard shrugged. "It's a pretty hardy little plant too."

The corners of Gilbert's mouth quirked up. "That's my baby," he said.

Eduard coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like he was hiding a laugh, "Right. Okay, let's get this stuff packed up for Toris."

"Right," Gilbert said, moving back and forth through the piles and methodically folding and packing items, though he did not put much thought or care into which times of item went into which suitcase.

"You'll tell him we're doing alright?" Eduard verified, dividing the stack of books between the cases, "I know he worries."

"I will," Gilbert said. "And check back from time to time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Eduard agreed, nodding slightly. "You're doing well? It's strange not having you around, but you're looking better."

"Being able to run does that to a person," Gilbert said and paused for a moment, holding several books in his hands. "I... Am doing better. It's weird, though."

"Weird?" Eduard looked up, holding out his hands for the books.

"It's weird to be doing good," Gilbert said. "Unexpected, even."

"I'm probably not the person to say this, but it shouldn't be."

"All things considered," Gilbert shrugged. "A couple months ago it didn't seem even remotely possible."

"And now you are," Eduard said, his lips twitching. "And turning the city on its head again in the process."

Gilbert laughed. "At least that I'm good at," and he turned to see Ivan standing in the door. "You are crazy good at that."

"At what?" Ivan asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Moving in dead silence and appearing behind people," Gilbert said.

Eduard glanced up and then dropped his gaze to the cases, closing the first two and making certain that everything that still needed packed was in the third before closing it as well.

"It is a useful skill to have," Ivan said, considering the suitcases.

"Yeah, no kidding," Gilbert said, trying to pick one of the suitcases up and considering it. "Hey, you can carry this one." Ivan stared at him for a long moment, even as Gilbert shoved it into his chest and he grabbed it before it could fall.

Eduard startled at that action, blinking twice before picking up one of the other cases, "I'll...go see how Raivis is doing with that plant and meet you at the bike."

"Sure," Gilbert said, taking the last one and grinning at Ivan.

"I am not sure I like you deciding to change my reputation inside my own House," Ivan said, as they walked down the hall.

"It's what you need, though."

"That is not yours to decide," Ivan said, and his voice pitched higher, revealing his actual anger.

Gilbert stopped, turning to look up at him. "Okay, okay, it's not. You're right. But you're the one who said you want people to stay with you, right? Maybe... maybe a change wouldn't be so bad."

Ivan looked away instead of at Gilbert and he sighed. "Also you gotta remember what an idiot I can be when it comes to the talking stuff."

Finally, Ivan looked back over at him. "That is true."

"Right?" Gilbert shook his head.

Eduard was waiting at Gilbert's bike with the bag, carefully keeping both the suitcase and the bike between himself and Natalia who had showed up for reasons he couldn't discern and wasn't sure he wanted to.

Gilbert stopped for a moment, before grinning at Natalia. "Hi, again."

She offered him a slight smile and a nod, "It's a nice bike."

"Thanks, I'm quite in love myself," Gilbert said and Ivan eyed him sideways.

She tilted her head to one side, looking at the three suitcases and the plant which Raivis had brought, "You're going to get all of that on there? I'm almost impressed."

"Yup," Gilbert said. "It shouldn't be that much of a problem, with some creative thinking."

Natalia considered that, looking from the bike to Gilbert and back before nodding, "Safe drive."

"Thanks," he said, giving her another pointy grin. "Anything else I can help you with, or just here to see me off?"

"Just here to see you off," She said, shrugging and only half lying.

Gilbert flicked his eyes between her and Ivan and shrugged it off. "Sure. Thanks."

She nodded once, offering him a half-wave before slipping back into the house. Eduard blinked after her before excusing himself as well.

"That was strange," Gilbert said, turning back to Ivan. "Gonna miss me again?" he teased, only Ivan remained looking quite serious.

"Yes," he said, dragging Gilbert into a kiss using his belt loops.

o-o-o

Vash stood with his hands planted firmly on Roderich's desk, leaning toward the other man, "She's not ready and you know it. You should have spoken up when Ludwig first mentioned this."

"She'll be fine," Roderich answered, his eyes flicking up from the reports he was typing up for legibility's sake. "It's not as though she's expected to take up the mantle of Head tomorrow. One would hope it's several years down the line."

"She's _heir_. And—"

"There are agreements in place that technically make her position one of the safest in the House. Theoretically," Roderich shook his head, turning back to his work.

"Theoretically. Yeah, we all know how well that works when things go to shit."

Roderich pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "And we are doing everything possible to keep things from 'going to shit' as you so eloquently put it."

"And _Gilbert_ 's her guard?" Vash's voice had dropped nearly to a hiss.

"You're too overbearing, so yes. Gilbert's her guard. He's a good choice. And frankly so's she," Roderich said, firmly.

Vash opened his mouth to say something else, but a quiet noise from the doorway stopped him. Lili stepped inside from where she'd been hovering, "You're fighting about me again, aren't you?"

"No," Vash denied.

Roderich looked at Vash over the top of his glasses and then turned his attention to Lili, "Sort of. He's worried."

"He does that," she agreed before looking at her brother. "You don't need to so much. I'll be alright. Gilbert keeps a good eye on me, and Ludwig, well we're in the most secure position we can be to make sure I don't become Head for a long while yet."

"Roderich we have a problem," Gilbert said, banging the door open, a plant cradled in his elbow.

Lili startled, and Vash straightened slowly from where he was still leaning against the desk. Roderich looked up, recognizing Gilbert's level of franticness and looking to Vash before nodding toward the door. Vash scowled at him, but finally nodded and left, waiting for Lili who shook her head once and stayed just inside the room. Roderich turned back to Gilbert, "Problem doesn't sound like even remotely a good thing, Gilbert. Especially as you came from the Russian House."

Gilbert set the plant down on Roderich's desk. "Well. I'm just curious. How would you rank your intelligence network?"

"Pretty high," Roderich answered, closing his computer to turn his full attention to Gilbert. "Sadiq's is comparable, if not slightly better, but we've the two best networks to my knowledge." He paused, a small line appearing between his eyebrows indicating a frown, though his lips never moved, "Why?"

"Where would you rank the Russians?" Gilbert asked, only really pausing for a beat.

Roderich's brows rose ever so slightly, "I...wouldn't? I wasn't aware they, well that they had one."

"Oh fuck," Gilbert said, crossing his arms to give them something to do.

Roderich stared at Gilbert for a long moment, "Gilbert, what aren't you saying?"

"The casino," he started and stopped. "This is like, you spread this around and Ivan kills me level information, okay? The casino is a huge intelligence-gathering machine."

Paling, Roderich blinked twice, "That's...son of a bitch. That's both completely terrifying and unspeakably brilliant."

"He has two heads of intelligence," Gilbert added. "One of them is the plainest man I've ever seen and he's out on the floor. The other monitors. Sounds like he has agents across the city."

Roderich ran a hand over his face, "Fuck. Are you—fuck. And there's, god _damn_ it."

Gilbert shrugged, a little helpless. "Yeah. I had no idea. I feel almost a little better that you had no idea either."

Lili spoke from where she was standing just inside the door, "And he, he showed this to you?"

Roderich startled, glancing in her direction, having forgotten she was there, "We absolutely cannot lose this alliance."

"Yes, he did. Which is more terrifying then I want to process," Gilbert said. "I just—what the fuck am I supposed to do with a thing like that?"

"There's nothing you _can_ do," Roderich replied, the pitch of his voice rising slightly. "That is—there is nothing you can do with that. Damn it, how the hell did no one know about this?"

"I meant more the emotional and moral implications of my lover handing me a secret of this level!" Gilbert said. "The House can't do anything, I know that. If we stopped sending people there he would notice and accept it but eventually everyone else would too! They wouldn't trust the casino anymore because we—his allies—pulled out."

Roderich bit back what might have been a slightly hysterical laugh, "The moral implications? There aren't really any. Emotional? I refuse to touch that when it comes to you and Ivan. Just so we're clear."

"Moral implications of telling your lover's secrets? Even to you?" Gilbert returned.

"Okay, that's a valid point. Do you really think he thought you wouldn't tell this one to at least Ludwig, and possibly myself, though?" Roderich asked.

"Probably not, but his brain doesn't always work in the ways you'd expect," Gilbert said.

"Well, it's certainly one way to test our word in the alliance, even if he didn't think it all the way through," Roderich said after a moment, shaking his head.

"Fuck," Gilbert said again, with emphasis.

"Ludwig needs to know," Roderich said, frowning at his desk for a moment. "But otherwise, this doesn't leave the room. It _can't_ leave the room."

Gilbert paused again. "Hey. What were the conditions of Toris and Feliks staying here?"

"The original offer didn't actually have any. Technically Toris said he had information when Ludwig looked ready to recant, but it wasn't anything we didn't already know," Roderich frowned slightly. "Which considering how little we knew was apparently a feat."

"If Ludwig's offer was conditional on information, Ludwig will flip his lid if he finds out they didn't tell him this," Gilbert said. "Even if it would have been suicide."

Roderich met Gilbert's eyes, "Then Ludwig should remember he actually offered them shelter in gratitude for Feliks coming here to let us know you were alive."

Gilbert nodded. "Okay. We do that."

"Do you want me to go get him?" Lili asked quietly.

"Yeah," Gilbert said after a beat.

She nodded once and slipped out of the room to fetch Ludwig. Roderich waited until the door closed behind her before speaking again, "You've taken a liking to Toris and Feliks."

"Is that surprising?" Gilbert asked.

"Not really. I suppose I just hadn't realized quite how much," Roderich answered with a slight shrug.

"Well," Gilbert looked away and back to the plant he had set on Roderich's desk.

Roderich followed his gaze, his eyebrows rising slightly, "A gift from Toris?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "I was uh, sortta going crazy."

"So he got you a plant."

"When he suggested I pick up reading or Sudoku or some bullshit I almost threw a tray at his head," Gilbert said as Ludwig entered the room.

Roderich managed a laugh at that, "That doesn't surprise me at all." He looked toward Ludwig and the amusement left his expression, "Ludwig, Gilbert...has news."

"News?" Ludwig asked.

"The Russians have possibly the biggest intelligence network in the city, which no one fucking knew about," Gilbert said.

"He says they've two heads of intelligence, if that gives you any indication," Roderich said, shaking his head. "We're lucky that we have an alliance with Ivan now."

Ludwig gaped at him before turning to Gilbert. "I have never been so happy Ivan wants to sleep with you."

Roderich tapped a finger lightly against the top of his desk, "The number of secrets Ivan likely has about each and every House...I can't even comprehend."

"I don't think I want to," Ludwig said after a beat.

"The things he probably knew about our House," Gilbert said. "With the broken alliance."

Roderich nodded once, pointing at Gilbert, "Yes, that, right there."

"He probably had enough information, he wouldn't have to physically crush us," Gilbert said, Ludwig paling. "Fuck. I can't get over this."

"We _cannot_ lose this alliance," Roderich said, straightening a small stack of notes on his desk.

"If we had any doubts about that," Ludwig said.

"There was a chance we could still come out standing if anything happened. Not much of one, but there was a chance," Roderich said, pausing for a moment, "or at least we had a half a thought that there was one. Up until _this_."

"Well," Ludwig said. "It's not like we had any thought to breaking the alliance."

Roderich nodded his agreement at that, startling slightly at a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" Ludwig called, frowning at the door.

The door opened and Toris hesitated in the doorframe, a tray with cups of coffee on it in his hands, "I heard Gilbert was back and had come up here. I brought coffee?"

"Coffee," Gilbert sighed. "You're amazing."

"Not that you probably didn't drink enough already this morning," Ludwig said, as Gilbert inhaled another cup anyway.

Roderich took a second cup from the tray which Toris carefully set down on the desk. Toris paused rather than immediately leaving when he spotted the plant, "Is that your plant, Gilbert?"

"Yes," Gilbert said. "Eduard was keeping it in the kitchen!"

Ludwig startled, finally noticing the plant.

Toris couldn't help his smile at that, "Eduard only nominally knows how to take care of plants. But he appears to have kept it alive." He considered the plant for a moment, "Weren't you on your motorcycle last night?"

"I drove slow," Gilbert said, already defensive.

Toris swept the plant up off the desk, looking it over skeptically, "It's still not good for it."

"Well, I didn't have a lot of options," Gilbert said, spreading his arms out and Ludwig was still frowning at the plant like it upended his entire world order.

"I'm not sure I should let you keep it after bringing it here on a motorcycle," Toris said, a note of teasing actually entering his tone as he all but forgot about Ludwig's presence for once.

"Hey! That plant was a gift!" Gilbert protested, Feliks poking his head in the door at the sound of his indignation.

"Motorcycle," Toris said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"My plant! Just because I've made a bad parenting choice doesn't mean you get to call child protection on me!"

Toris finally handed the plant over, "I guess so." He considered for a long moment before coming to a decision, seeing Feliks out of the corner of his eye, "Did I tell you that it was Feliks' idea?"

"What?" Feliks yelped. "Don't throw that around!"

"I am so sure you didn't?" Gilbert said after a beat.

Toris' expression was almost smug as he nodded slightly, "Well, it was." Roderich coughed slightly, clearly attempting and failing to hide a laugh as he ducked his head and Ludwig looked between them like he could not quite wrap his mind around what he was hearing.

"Can you, like, not just say shit like that?" Feliks demanded.

Toris offered Feliks an innocent look, "Even if it's true?"

"Especially then!"

Toris shook his head slightly, fondly amused, "Alright. I won't say things like that in the future."

"Thank you," Feliks sniffed.

"Did you know?" Ludwig said suddenly. "About Ivan's intelligence network."

Toris startled at Ludwig's words, all of his previous relaxation evaporating and he took an instinctive step away from Ludwig toward Feliks, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm really certain you do," Ludwig said and Gilbert tensed, looking over at his brother.

"He doesn't have an intelligence network to my knowledge," Toris insisted, tilting his chin up very slightly and focusing on Ludwig's left cheekbone, though his hands shook as he did so.

Ludwig's eyes narrowed, and Feliks gave Toris a panicked look. "Hey, Ludwig?" Gilbert said. "That offer for protection wasn't actually dependent on information, right?""

Toris stood his ground, facing down Ludwig, but remained balanced on the balls of his feet, more than able to take flight and pull Feliks along with him if it became necessary. He only half heard Gilbert, his focus having narrowed to Ludwig and the Head of the German House's reactions.

"Yes," Ludwig said after a beat.

"Look, if they had told you, no protection would have helped this House or them," Gilbert said, waving a hand in front of Ludwig's face. "Hey. Remember what we were just talking about."

"They still—" Ludwig started.

"Stop being annoyed and be rational," Gilbert said.

"It would have been suicidal," Roderich said calmly from where he was still behind his desk, watching Toris and Feliks at least as much as he was watching Ludwig.

"It's not like we backed out of a bargain," Feliks said, still half outside the door.

"Feliks," Toris murmured with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, never taking his eyes off Ludwig.

"We know about the casino," Roderich spoke quietly. "But the point's moot because as you said, Ludwig, it wasn't conditional on information."

"You— _how_ do you know about the casino?" Feliks asked in shock.

"Gilbert met Ivan there last night," Roderich said.

That finally drew Toris' attention off of Ludwig and onto Gilbert, his voice low and not quite steady, "And you _told_ them about it?" He nearly flinched as he recognized that it confirmed his already blatant lies for what they were.

"Head of my House and head of intelligence," Gilbert said, feeling defensive. "Yeah. Doesn't mean it's gonna leave this room."

Toris paled, taking a half step back again and resisting the urge to reach behind him for Feliks, "Good."

Gilbert pinched his nose, as Feliks fumbled to grab Toris' hand. "Right. Okay. We just... have to get through this meeting."

"Which should be less difficult than it could have been had the situation with the Russians not been...repaired," Roderich said after a moment.

"Please don't say anything like that before it happens," Ludwig said. "We still have a little more than twenty four hours."

Toris hesitated for a moment before backing up a couple of more steps, "If you'll excuse us."

"Yes," Ludwig said.

Toris nodded once to them and left swiftly, pulling Feliks along with him. Gilbert looked after him for a moment before turning back. "Ludwig's right. Let's not jinx this meeting, okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introductions this chapter:  
> Zhivko--Bulgaria  
> Sergiu--Romania
> 
> VS on Ivan's secret service: Still can't decide if this is the most brilliant or the grossest idea to have Russia and Romania and Bulgaria at the head of the best (secret) intelligence service in the city or not. Considering VS's thesis was all on secret police archives. Gilbert getting a view in on this world may or may not be a reference to East Germany's own secret police


	38. Almost a Declaration Of War

Alfred scanned the alleyway around them. "Shouldn't you have, I don't know, stayed in tonight of all nights?" he asked, Arthur beside him. They were alone in neutral territory, as Arthur scrambled for straws.

"Because of the meeting tomorrow?" Arthur said, glancing at Alfred and focusing further down the alley, "It's why I needed to run down a couple of more chances."

"Alone at night?" Alfred said. "Isn't this just suspicious?"

Arthur drew a deep breath, offering Alfred a sharp look, "Sometimes it's the only time."

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest, wearing an old bomber jacket he found at a thrift store and his combat boots. "And these leads have turned up nothing, like all the others before them."

"Do you have a fucking point?" Arthur snapped, his nerves on edge as his gaze darted up and down the alley again.

"Apparently not," Alfred said as a shot rang out, barely missing his head. Ducking down, he swore, looking around to see who had shot at him.

Arthur took cover behind some trashcans, pulling his gun out and firing down the alley in the direction of the shot, "So much for neutral territory."

"Fuck, who the—" Alfred poked his head back around the trashcans where he also had taken cover. "Are those—the fucking Asians?"

Arthur fired twice more, ducking back down as there was return fire, "Yes. Damn their eyes."

"But they promised—" Alfred said, firing off a series of shots high in the air, more like he was giving warning then trying to hit anyone as he tried to get a better look at who was there.

"And we were idiots to believe them," Arthur snapped. "Fire with the intent to get out of here, Alfred, if they were going to leave because of a warning they _wouldn't have shot at us in the first place_."

"Shooting them before the meeting is stupid!" Alfred snarled back, trying to get a clear look down the alley again and finally seeing where they were.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at his heir, "And you suggest we get out of here without shooting them how exactly?"

"We," Alfred said, turning his head around and a shot caught him in the shoulder. Gasping, he braced himself against the trashcan, scowling at the tear in his jacket and the blood trickling down. "Just a graze," he said, but the pain made it harder to lift his arm.

Arthur snarled, firing off another couple of rounds, "It looks like Yao's guard and the younger girl at least. Can you use your arm?"

Alfred rolled his shoulder and hissed. "It will be fine," he said, trying to gauge how far down the alley they could get while under fire and banging his head back against the trashcan.

"We can get halfway down before we lose all chance of cover," Arthur said, having assessed it when the first shot was fired. "We won't get any further than that without something to divert them."

Alfred looked at the trashcans, knocking one over and kicking it down the alleyway to see how far it would go. "It's not high enough to offer enough cover," he said. "Fuck." He tilted his head around the corner of the trashcan again, the younger of the two women having exposed herself too much while trying to get a look at them. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and wanted to scream in rage before he whipped around the trashcan, aiming for her chest and watching her drop before he threw himself back under cover. "That work? Can we run now?"

Arthur nodded, firing once more to send Suong to cover before he bolted, making sure Alfred was right with him the entire way. Alfred kept looking over his shoulder, already itching to have his phone out and call Kiku because she had dropped and he had no idea where he'd hit her.

o-o-o

Kiku's hands were shaking as he came down the stairs, his dark eyes darting to where Suong was standing in front of Yao, her hands clean but the cuffs of her shirt stained with Mei's blood. He strode over to her, his voice steady, "What happened?"

"It was the English. The doctors say she should recover, but it will take time," Suong answered, simply.

"We had a non-agression pact until tomorrow," Kiku said.

Suong raised a single eyebrow at him, looking toward where Yao was, "And the English Head and heir clearly didn't care about that."

"You say it was the Head and the heir?" Yao asked, Leon running into the room and looking around. For a moment Yao narrowed his eyes at him, as Leon moved over to Kiku.

Suong nodded once, "They're both distinctive. I believe I hit the heir, but he was still steady and strong enough to shoot Mei and run."

"Alfred shot her?" Leon blurted and Yao stared at him. "I mean... Jones. Jones shot her?"

Shooting Leon a sharp look, Suong noticed a paler cast to Kiku's features but attributed it to Mei's being shot, "That is what I said."

"But he," Leon started and Yao turned to stare at him. "I'm sorry," Leon ducked his head down. "So—even our neutrality pack is meaningless with them."

"It's not that much of a surprise," Suong said.

"They have not broken them so blatantly before," Kiku replied, considering her skeptically for a moment.

Suong turned to face him, "Mei is laying in the hospital. I would say that assuming things about the English House based on their past behavior would be a mistake."

"You still have romantic notions about that House, don't you?" Yao asked, looking at Leon, who startled, whipping his head back up.

He looked from Suong to Yao and finally slid his eyes over to Kiku. "I," he started. "Yes," he murmured, ducking his head down again.

"Well, hopefully tonight has debased you of such notions," Yao said, voice icy. "For they have broken their word and shot one of our own—as they have always seemed to be willing to do."

Kiku let his gaze flick to Yao and then away, "What does this mean going forward?"

"They broke not only a non-aggression pact, but they did it on neutral territory," Suong said by way of a half answer.

Leon's mouth twitched but this time he kept it shut.

"It is almost a declaration of war," Yao said, sounding smug and Leon bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to bleed.

"You would have us go to war?" Kiku asked, his voice quiet and not betraying anything of what he thought of that.

"Mei is—" Suong started and then stopped at a sharp hand motion from Kiku.

"I have heard your arguments about Mei. I was speaking to the Head of my House. Not to his guard."

Yao stood in silence for a moment. "We shall see tomorrow," he said finally, folding his hands in front of him.

Kiku nodded once, "As you say."

"Dismissed until then," Yao said, gesturing to Suong and turning away.

Kiku watched Suong follow Yao out before retreating to his room and shutting his burner phone off completely—unable to deal with the thought of Alfred trying to reach him that night.

Leon followed him, knocking on the door after Kiku had shut it in his face. "Hey. Hey?"

"It is not locked," Kiku said, not moving from where he had sat down on his bed as he reached for one of his oldest photo albums.

Leon pushed the door open. "You," he started, and fell silent, just standing in front of the door.

"I do not wish to talk," Kiku said, not looking up from the pictures.

"But it was Alfred," Leon said.

Kiku turned the page, speaking after a moment, "If you are going to insist on this, step away from the door so no one can hear you."

"It's closed," Leon said, but moved further into the room.

Kiku finally looked up from the album, his fingers shaking on the edges of the pages and his expression lost, "He shot Mei."

"Yes," Leon agreed, and he sounded far from confident himself. "She's going to live, though."

Kiku nodded once before dropping his gaze to the photo his fingers rested over. It was a springtime image from nearly four years previous, Mei framed just to the left of center by trees in the park in the neutral zone, "But it was Mei."

Leon clenched his fists. "You're going to see him tomorrow."

Kiku's jaw tensed and something shuttered behind his eyes as he nodded, "Yes. I am."

"Do you think they broke the pact?" Leon asked after a beat, unsure what to even say.

"I do not know. It," he drew a deep breath, "it is possible, but, it does not seem like a good move. Kirkland's situation is tenuous right now. It would be stupid and dangerous for him to risk war. What reason would he have for it?"

"He's not so petty as that," Leon said. "Nor is Alfred. They know they're in trouble, breaking a pact would be... it would be _suicide_ it doesn't make _sense_."

A small frown creased Kiku's brow and he set the album aside, pulling out his most recent one instead, "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"I might be," Leon said. "We have a lot more to gain."

Kiku looked toward the door and then to Leon, "It would not be beyond Yao to do that. And Mei is in no state to let us know what actually happened. I, I cannot take Alfred's word in this case. No more than I can trust Suong's. Her first loyalty is to Yao not to the House."

"And you don't trust Alfred not to lie to you," Leon said.

"About other things. But not in this case," Kiku said quietly.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Leon asked.

"Go to the meeting and see what happens. Be prepared to speak to him." Kiku shook his head once, "It...it will not be easy, but it might be easier to conceal things than it would have been even yesterday. At least Yao can read my anger as related only to Mei being shot. Perhaps even to me believing what he has said."

Leon paused for a long moment before he finally nodded. "I... will see you before the meeting?"

Kiku nodded, "Yes. Why?"

"I just," Leon looked away. "Good luck. I'd like to say that in the morning too, I suppose."

Kiku's lips twitched up on the left side, an almost imperceptible expression, "Thank you."

Leon nodded, hesitating before turning to the door. He opened it and stepped into the hall, seeing Sheng down the hallway. Sheng nodded once to Leon, but didn't comment on which room he was coming out of.

"You heard the news?" Leon said, voice stiff and back straight.

"I did. I'm headed over to stay at the hospital and I'll call with any updates they have," Sheng said, pausing before nodding to Kiku's door. "How's he doing?"

Leon shook his head slightly. "They were very close," he said, starting down the hall.

"Are," Sheng corrected without thinking before he headed for the front door. Leon stared after him, shaking his head as much to himself as Sheng.

o-o-o

Alfred slammed the door open. "That should not have happened," he said, turning to Arthur who came in after him.

Arthur caught the door as it bounced back and closed it firmly, "Get that coat off so we can get a good look at that graze."

"It's fine," Alfred said, scowling at the hole. "Fuck. It's fine, it's barely a graze." He didn't want anyone touching him.

"God _damn_ it, Alfred," Arthur snapped, the fear he felt when he had realized Alfred had been hit wearing his temper to shreds. "Take off the sodding coat."

"I'll take care of it," Alfred snapped but this time he shrugged out of the coat anyway, hissing as it pulled his shoulder.

"Holy shit," Liam said, coming out of the kitchen. "Weren't you in the neutral territory?"

"It looks much worse than it is," Alfred grit out. "It's just... bleeding a lot."

Matthew fell still where he had been coming down the stairs, "You weren't supposed to be anywhere—"

"It was the fucking Asians," Arthur snapped before Matthew could finish, reaching for Alfred to get a better look at the wound that was bleeding more than a simple graze ought to.

"But we've got—"

Arthur darted a sharp glance toward Matthew, "A non-aggression pact. Which they broke by firing first."

"What did you do?" Liam asked. "After they started firing, I mean."

"Took cover and fired back," Arthur answered.

Matthew shook his head, "You got away, but they would have had the better ground to open fire originally."

"One of them took a bullet and went down," Arthur said.

Liam shot a look at Alfred, who grit his teeth and was looking away as Arthur looked at his arm. "Who was it?"

"The main guard and the younger woman," Alfred said, Francis coming down the stairs.

"Which one did you shoot?" Matthew asked, barely noticing Cameron appear in the doorway to a side room.

"The younger one," Arthur said, moving to where they kept a basic first aid kit to clean and dress Alfred's wound.

"Don't know how bad," Alfred said, finally speaking again.

"I'll see what I can find," Francis said, moving through the room.

"Be careful in any inquiries," Arthur said, his gaze darting to Francis. "I don't trust Yao not to spin this as entirely our doing and take whatever 'vengeance' he can because of it."

"I will," Francis promised, pausing and backtracking to touch Arthur's shoulder. "I perhaps suggest staying in the rest of the night."

Arthur nodded once, distractedly as he dabbed at Alfred's graze with an alcohol soaked cloth and wrapped a bandage around it, "Yes, yes."

Francis shook his head and left, Alfred hissing again. "That hurts," he said, voice pitched into a whine.

"Hold still," Arthur grit out, tying off the bandage and stepping back. "You're lucky it wasn't deep enough to actually need stitches or worse."

"Yeah," Alfred growled. "Lucky fucking me."

Arthur scowled at his nephew, "You still have the use of your arm and you're still breathing. Yes, you're goddamn lucky."

"Shouldn't have been shot to begin with," Alfred snapped.

"Calm down, you'll strain something," Liam said and Alfred turned his glower onto him. "It could be worse."

Alfred open and closed his mouth several times before clicking it shut firmly. Matthew watched quietly for another moment before retreating upstairs to his room to post a coded message to ask after Mei's status. Arthur saw him go, but his focus remained with Alfred as Cameron retreated back into the room he had come from, "Go get some rest, we've got the meeting tomorrow."

"Do we have a game plan for that?" Alfred asked, not looking at Arthur or where Matthew went.

"Don't make anyone angrier at us," Arthur said.

"That it? I thought you were supposed to be good at plans," Alfred said.

"What do you think I've been trying to do since everything went sideways with the blasted Germans?" Arthur snapped. "We cannot afford to make enemies tomorrow, the best we can hope for is neutrality agreements and none of the ones we have are _official_."

"If that's all I'd like to go to bed," Alfred said, grabbing his coat and stomping up the stairs.

Arthur watched him go with narrowed eyes before going upstairs and closing himself in his office. "That could have gone better," Liam said to the empty room.

o-o-o

An hour later, Alfred slipped through Matthew's door. Matthew's light was off, and he seemed to already be in bed. Startling awake at the sound of the latch, Matthew snapped his lamp on and had a knife in hand from the bedside table before he fully processed it was Alfred, "Shit, Al." He put the knife away and picked up his glasses, putting them on.

"You didn't used to do that when we were kids," Alfred said, and without asking crawled onto the bed and under the covers.

Matthew slid down further under the covers again and shook his head, pulling his glasses off again, "We didn't do a lot of things when we were kids."

"Like shoot people," Alfred muttered, squishing himself under the covers until only his blond hair peeked up. "Have you heard anything?"

"Not before I went to bed," Matthew admitted, turning over and reaching for where he kept his computer under his bedside table, pulling it out and opening it up. "How badly do you think she was hit?"

"She dropped," Alfred said. "She was standing and then she wasn't."

Matthew looked toward his brother, but didn't reach out yet, "Have you reached him at all?"

"Turned his phone off, which means he's mad," Alfred mumbled.

"Are you going to be able to face him tomorrow?" Matthew asked, making sure his browser was incognito before accessing the forum he and Leon were using to communicate.

"I don't know," Alfred said. "They shot _us first_."

"They're not going to say that," Matthew said. "Especially since she got shot too."

"I technically got shot first," he said. "Both times. It was aimed for my head and then my shoulder but. No. They won't say that."

Matthew breathed a soft sigh, finally reaching out and running his fingers over his brother's hair where it was visible, "Fuck, Al. This is a mess."

He gave a tiny gulp of a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm really fucking skilled. At least that's something I can say about myself: I have a fucking skill."

"This wasn't your fault. They shot first," Matthew reminded, using his free hand to click through the forum to the thread he and Leon were using for communication at the moment and finding a comment to let him know a longer answer was on its way.

"I still—can really fuck things up," Alfred said, finally tearing the blankets down to his chin.

Matthew drew his attention away from the screen to focus fully on his older brother, "Hey, sh. You're here. That matters."

"I shot someone the person I love cares about," Alfred said. "They shot first. And tomorrow—" He buried his face into the pillow.

"And tomorrow you have to go to the meeting," Matthew finished for him, looking back at the screen even as he kept stroking a hand through his brother's hair. "Things have to get better from here, Al."

"Don't say that," Alfred said, voice tight. "There's still a lot of room for things to go wrong."

Matthew made a soft noise when he finally found Leon's reply, reading it over twice to make sure he had it right, "She's going to be fine."

"But it's bad, right?"

Matthew read over the message again, considering how much to actually tell Alfred of it, "It's not, well, good. It'll take time for her to make a full recovery. She's in the hospital. But it was neither fatal nor permanently debilitating from what it sounds like."

Alfred let out a long breath.

Matthew carefully typed out his reply one-handed, telling Leon what Alfred and Arthur had said when they returned home, piecing the code together as he went from Leon's previous response. "Go careful tomorrow, Al."

"Careful," he said after a beat. "Sure. Careful."

"I mean it," Matthew said. "Yao, Yao's already telling the Asian House that we broke the truce."

"Fuck him," Alfred snarled and then fell silent for a moment. "Can I stay?"

Matthew nodded, exiting out of his browser and closing his computer down again, "Yeah. Just try not to kick." He set the laptop under his bedside table and shut off the lamp as he slid further beneath the covers.

"I'll try," Alfred said, figuring he wouldn't sleep much anyway.

"You gonna be alright?" Matthew asked quietly after several minutes of silence.

"Yeah," Alfred said after a beat. "Just thinking."

"You want to let me in on that, or no?"

"Not yet," Alfred said. "Go to sleep, you probably need it."

"I'm not that tired," Matthew said, though the yawn he suppressed halfway through put a lie to his words.

"It's okay," Alfred said after a beat, and shifted around to pull Matthew into a hug against his chest. "Go to sleep."

Matthew curled up against his brother, nodding slightly and murmuring as he started to drift, "Wake me up if you need to talk, or anything, okay?"

"I will," Alfred said, and sounded like he meant it.

o-o-o

Sigurd wound his scarf around his neck, and looked at Eirik. "It's going to be fine."

Eirik glanced away from Sigurd and then looked back, nodding, "I know. Too many Houses for anyone to risk actually trying something. Just, just be careful anyhow, yeah?"

"Always am," Sigurd said, giving him a tiny smile. "It won't be bad. In fact, it might be quite good to have a meeting like this."

Matthias startled from where he was pulling on his gloves, looking over. "Was that _optimism_? Did I just hear you be optimistic." He turned to Berwald quite seriously. "Be on your guard. We're totally hosed."

Berwald offered Matthias a long look at that, "It'll b'fine."

"Of course it will," Tino said, leaning on the doorframe watching them. "After all the entire city would rather keep us around as a warning to other Houses."

Sigurd shook his head, finally looking away from Matthias back to Eirik. "What Tino said. Listen to him and ignore the idiot."

"One of these days you and Tino are going to be wrong about something," Eirik murmured. "Don't let it be tonight."

"I won't," Sigurd said and hesitated before leaning in, kissing Eirik softly with his fingers under his chin before stepping away. Color rose on his cheeks, as he shot a glance at the others and then back to Eirik. "Try to keep the homestead safe too, hm?"

Eirik nodded, managing a faint smile, "Yeah, we'll keep it safe for you." Sigurd gave him one last look before nodding and following Matthias and Berwald out the door.

"And you'll do the driving honors?" Matthias asked Berwald. "Everyone else will be there in a car, we might as well make a show of it."

"Our car is hardly the most impressive," Sigurd said under his breath.

"It's the thought that counts."

Berwald nodded, getting into the driver's seat, "Better'n nothin'."

"See? Berwald agrees with me."

"God help his soul," Sigurd said, sliding into the back and trying not to fidget. Berwald glanced at Sigurd in the mirror, his lips twitching up ever so slightly, but he didn't say anything else as they pulled away from the House, headed toward the meeting.

"Are you excited for your debut as heir?" Matthias asked, looking over the back of his seat.

"No," Sigurd snapped.

"Lotta Houses named new heirs," Berwald said, not taking his eyes from the road.

"Except the Russians," Matthias said. "Unless they're going to fucking surprise us."

"It's th' Russians. Wouldn' put it past 'em, but don' think they would at th' meetin'."

Matthias looked out the window as they pulled up in front of the hall in the neutral territory. "I guess they usually hold dances here, or some shit."

Berwald hummed slightly as he parked the car and got out, his eyes scanning the area and the building, "Makes sense. Big place."

"Big place," Matthias repeated, shaking his head and compulsively adjusting his gloves. "Shall we go see who's already here?"

As he spoke another car pulled up, Ludwig driving because he had put his foot down on Gilbert getting ahold of the keys. "Ah, the Germans," Matthias said, Gilbert first out of the car. "Punctual as always." Berwald's lips twitched slightly at that as Lili stepped out a moment after Gilbert.

"Matthias," Gilbert greeted, bouncing on the balls of his feet before settling back down.

Ludwig inclined his head as well. "Good to see you."

Matthias laughed. "Good to see you, too. Enjoying the power and responsibility?"

Instead of replying, Ludwig made a face at him, and Matthias laughed again. Berwald huffed out a quiet breath that could have been a laugh as the six of them reached the front door of the building and he pulled it open, his eyes never stilling as he watched the Germans.

"Thanks," Gilbert said, swanning past him. Berwald resisted the urge to roll his eyes, stepping through after the others and letting the door swing shut.

Gilbert looked around, standing in front of Lili and Ludwig. So far, only the Romans and Asians had arrived. Kiku looked up as they entered from where he had been paying attention to Yao. His gaze darted away again when he saw Ludwig and was reminded again of yet another person who could know any lies in his interactions with Alfred.

"It seems calm so far," Ludwig remarked.

"Almost no one's here yet," Gilbert shot back. "That doesn't count as calm."

"No one who actively hate each other are here yet, either," Lili murmured.

"Exactly," Gilbert said, pointing to her and still looking around in time to see the door open again, Arthur and Cameron entering first. "Speaking of, here's our first major rivalry of the day."

"Where's the heir?" Ludwig asked.

Arthur's head was tilted toward Cameron as they entered, offering final instructions to keep their mouths shut about the incident with the Asian House until they knew what Yao had already said. Lili blinked twice as Alfred entered behind them, "That...shirt isn't, um."

"Kosher," Ludwig finished for her, as Alfred breezed into the room, his short-sleeve shirt showing off the bandages on his arm and emblazoned with the logo "Han Shot First."

Arthur half turned to make sure Alfred had heard his instruction to Cameron and absolutely froze for a beat too long to go unnoticed. He crossed to Alfred's side in two steps, closing his hand around his heir's arm just below the bandages, hissing at him, "What are you doing?"

"Guess," Alfred said, bending his head down so no one else could hear them and shrugging off Arthur's hand as if it didn't hurt.

"You absolute idiot," Arthur grit out, carefully tilting his head so the others there wouldn't be able to make out what he was saying. "Are you trying to lose us what small chances we have?"

"No," Alfred said, daring to glance over to where Yao was glaring at him, hands folded in front of his waist.

Arthur drew a deep breath, looking his heir over once more and straightening the sleeves on Alfred's shirt, " _Don't_ do anything to make this worse." He stepped back, turning his attention back to Cameron again.

"Sure," Alfred said, shooting Yao a grin when Arthur's back was turned.

Lovino touched Antonio's elbow and nodded toward Alfred, murmuring, "The bandage there, think it's an act? Looks like it could be a graze from here."

"It could be either," Antonio said. "If it's an act, it's a stupid one."

Lovino nodded once, "You think Jones is capable of that much deception? I don't think I'd mark him for that."

"I wouldn't mark him for it," Antonio said. "Except look at who he was raised by," and he titled his chin slightly toward Arthur.

Lovino nodded slightly, "Yeah, but that would be a stupid deception, you said so yourself."

"And a stupid shirt," Antonio said, but he sounded amused. Lovino snorted, but didn't say anything else as the door opened to allow the Latin House contingent entry. "Ah," Antonio said after a beat. "They're here then."

Lovino suppressed a grimace, "Well they'd have to be, wouldn't they?"

"Of course they would be," Antonio said and paused when he saw Eva walking straight for him. Plastering on a smile, he tilted his head. "Do I owe this honor to something?"

"We need to talk," Eva shot back.

Lovino's eyes drifted to where Carmen kept herself a pace behind Eva before he looked back to the Head of the Latin House, "And here I thought we all did so well ignoring each other."

"It's cute, you've been named heir," Eva said. "Anyway, sniping is not the point right now."

"It's not?" Antonio asked and she paused.

"Hm." Eva frowned at him. "No, I'd much rather like to talk about what we're going to do with the baby."

"The—what?" Antonio managed when he got his voice back at all.

Lovino stared at Eva for a long time, waiting for the words to actually make sense, "What baby?"

Carmen shifted back on her heels at their reactions, "Eva..."

Eva stared at them both. "You mean you don't know?" She turned back to Carmen. "You said they would know."

"They were supposed to know!" She said, holding a hand up, "He was supposed to tell them!"

"Tell me about _what_?" Antonio demanded.

"The baby your brother gave my guard!" Eva snapped. Lovino froze, eyes darting to Carmen who winced.

"You... what?" Antonio said weakly.

Carmen drew a deep breath before speaking, "Your brother got me pregnant. He was supposed to tell you."

"Yes, well, he's been laid up with a fever the last few days," Antonio said, sounding like he had not quite processed what he was hearing.

"How long has he known about this?" Lovino asked after another moment.

"A while," Carmen answered, watching Antonio warily.

Antonio stared at the group in front of him, totally at a loss for words. Lovino glanced at Antonio and then back to Carmen, "And how long has, have you been?"

Carmen shook her head slightly, "Long enough."

"So it wasn't a one-time thing," Antonio said, not a question. Gilbert caught sight of his face across the room and started to drift over while keeping Ludwig and Lili in his peripheral.

Carmen pursed her lips and shook her head once, "No."

The corner of Antonio's mouth twitched. "Ah." Lovino's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he just shook his head once rather than say anything.

"So, what are we going to do?" Eva asked, poking Antonio in the chest, and Antonio grinned at her instead of screaming.

"Is now really the time?"

"You're retreating to lick your wounds," Eva accused. "That's not dealing with anything."

"Unlike you apparently some of us weren't prepared," Antonio returned mildly.

"After all, wouldn't want any hasty decisions made with a kid in question," Lovino said, offering Carmen a slight incline of his head which earned him an unimpressed look.

Even Antonio stared at Lovino for a second before shaking his head. "We can discuss this after the meeting."

Carmen hesitated at that, glancing at Eva even as she figured it was the best they were likely to get. "How late? Like drinks afterwards?" Eva goaded.

"We'll have to see how the meeting goes," Antonio replied.

"There's Houses still to arrive," Carmen said.

Antonio stared at her a moment too long before turning on his heel and walking away. Lovino trailed after Antonio, Carmen frowning slightly as she watched them.

Gilbert started on an intercept course when he ran into Alfred instead, who spread his arms out. "Why, Beilschmidt, it's been such a long time since I've seen you out and about," Alfred greeted. Arthur and Cameron were across the room of milling gangsters, caught up in a conversation with the African House. The line of Arthur's back was tense, and he was barely paying attention to Alfred or where he had gone.

"Hasn't it been," Gilbert said, giving Alfred a grin. "I've been a little caught up, you know. Hell of a shirt, you have on there."

"I heard about that," Alfred said, for the moment ignoring the comment about his shirt. "You got what, owned or something? Isn't that sortta sad, that you totally rolled over for him after he kidnapped you?"

"Owned?" Gilbert laughed. "What the hell, Jones."

"Whipped?" Alfred offered.

"I guess that means our love will never be consummated, if that's how you think about it."

"That's not funny," Alfred said, shaking his head and for a moment his face fell before he got his grin back.

Gilbert paused a moment too long. "It's sortta funny," Gilbert shrugged, but saw that Alfred was looking past him and at someone else. His eyes flickered over without turning his head, to where the Asians stood together in a tight pack. Of the three of them, only the heir was studiously not looking at Alfred. "See you got yourself into trouble right before the meet," Gilbert tried again, pointing his chin toward the bandages.

"I guess that is what they say," Alfred said, still even more uncomfortable. "But honestly, what do you see in someone like him?"

"There's this thing, called sex, which I know you haven't had yet," and Alfred gave another unhappy laugh.

"Okay, but he can't be worth that much I mean, you got totally suckered in by—"

"What's happened to Gilbert?" Ivan asked, appearing over his shoulder and both Alfred and Gilbert jumped a little bit, Gilbert tilting his head back and bowing his back into Ivan's space.

"Well, he's fallen in with you," Alfred said, eying him up and down. "And I'm just wondering what he saw in a guy like you."

"Presumably something he liked," Ivan said, voice rising and smiling. That only seemed to bother Alfred more.

Cameron spared a glance to check and see where Alfred was and he reached out to touch the back of Arthur's elbow, getting shaken off brusquely. Several other heads had turned that way, including Yao's.

"See, but this is what I don't get," Alfred said, cupping one elbow with his opposite hand, gesturing in the air in front of Ivan. "Why is everyone so scared of you anyway? You're not that impressive."

"Really?" Ivan asked, smiling with his eyes closed and his head cocked to one side. Still between them, Gilbert froze. "People say I'm scary?"

"Quaking in their goddamn boots over it," Alfred said. "Admittedly, you got a lot of balls to show up with no heir."

"Yes, I am noticing that I've quite singled myself out that way," Ivan chirped. "But thank you for pointing it out in case I did not already know."

Cameron elbowed Arthur this time who turned fully finally. Arthur fell very still, his face expressionless before he excused himself from his conversation and strode across the room, Cameron keeping up as best he could.

"That's what I'm here for," Alfred said. "Pointing out your problems."

"Do you have anything intelligent to say, or are you content to state the obvious?" Ivan asked.

"Like how strange it is about Gilbert and you?" Alfred asked. "Has anyone pointed that one out?"

"Yo, right here," Gilbert said.

Arthur reached Alfred's side, catching him by his uninjured arm and pulling him back slightly, looking up at Ivan, "I'm so terribly sorry about him. He still hasn't learned how not to offend everyone he meets."

Ivan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't apologize for him," he said at the same time Alfred snapped.

"There's no need to apologize for me."

Arthur shot Alfred a sharp look at that, before he inclined his head to Ivan, "Of course, my mistake."

Ivan inclined his head, and Gilbert nodded to Arthur. "Kirkland," he said, made a weird hand motion toward Alfred and turned around, Ivan following behind him.

"Winter," Gilbert said under his breath, finally seeing both Ivan and Winter. Winter inclined his head and did not verbalize a greeting. "You look nice," Gilbert added under his breath to Ivan. 

"Is that how people see us?" Ivan asked, scanning the room. Only one House was still missing. "That you're... settling, or something for me? That you wouldn't be with me except for..." 

"To be fair I wouldn't if you hadn't kidnapped me," Gilbert said. "Well, I might have if you tried talking first. But yeah, sure that's what everyone else sees. That I'm sleeping with you to keep you happy and the alliance intact." 

Ivan gave him a long look and Gilbert turned to face him fully, once they were away from the English, twining his hand in Ivan's tie. "That's okay. Doesn't matter." 

Arthur watched them for a long moment before turning to face Alfred, speaking in an undertone, "This is what I meant when I said don't make anyone angry, Alfred." 

"You're too scared, you know that?" Alfred returned. 

"And you're too reckless," Arthur grit out. "Learn when to keep your fucking mouth shut." 

"Well maybe between the two of us, we'll figure something out," Alfred said, stalking around the perimeter of the room as Antonio approached Gilbert and Ivan across the room. 

Lovino trailed along with Antonio, though his gaze was constantly flickering around the room. He knew full well that Lars was there as Antonio's guard, but the habits of the role were deeply ingrained. 

"Tonio," Gilbert greeted, Ivan tilting his head. 

"Gilbert," Antonio greeted and then turned to Ivan, inclining his head. "Ivan." 

Ivan blinked at the use of his first name but nodded in greeting as Gilbert let go of his tie and turned toward Antonio. "So what was up with you and the Latins earlier? It didn't look good, but Jones got me before I could get over to you. Something bad up?" 

Antonio started cursing in Spanish and Gilbert picked out fucking and brother somewhere in the mess. "That good?" he asked wryly. 

"That good," Antonio said. "Nothing to lead to war or even skirmishes but—" 

"But enough to be a problem," Lovino finished. 

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Antonio said. 

"After the meeting, assuming we don't all die today, we should meet up," Gilbert said. "Find Francis." 

"Assuming the English House is still standing," Antonio muttered, looking across the room, where the Asians were staring at the English and vice versa. 

"Isn't Francis," Ivan stumbled over the casual use of first names.  "The head of English intelligence?" 

Lovino nodded in answer to Ivan's question, "Yeah, that's the one." 

"It has been rather a long time since the three of us went drinking," Antonio grinned. 

"Aren't you supposed to be responsible now?" Gilbert asked. 

"I promise not to yell at the city again," Antonio said with a completely straight face and Gilbert tried to swallow back his laugh, Ivan staring at them like they were speaking a different language. 

"I haven't heard this story," Lovino said and then paused, shaking his head. "No, never mind, I think I'm better off not asking." 

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, don't ask." 

"You do remember the amount of things I have on you, right?" Antonio asked sweetly. 

"Eh?" Ivan managed. 

Lovino's full attention shifted to Ivan, "They've been going out drinking with Francis for years." 

"Since you were what, fifteen?" Antonio asked, looking at Gilbert. 

"Sixteen. Man, that fake ID I had back then was bad," Gilbert shook his head. 

"I'm not sure I know anyone who had a good fake ID at sixteen," Lovino said. 

"And then we all got kicked out of bars together," Antonio said, looking at the ceiling wistfully. "What simple times." 

Gilbert snorted, and looked sideways at Ivan's expression. "Okay. Maybe all those questions did make a little bit of sense." 

Lovino huffed at that, "See? I've been telling Antonio that for months now." 

"What question?" Ivan asked, voice pitched too high and Gilbert turned his head slightly. 

Lovino looked at Ivan for a moment, considering before speaking, "Whether they ever slept together. They didn't, by the way." 

Ivan blinked rapidly, turning to stare at Gilbert. "It's okay," Gilbert said. "You asked me if I slept with Ludwig," and like the first time he heard that, Antonio burst out laughing, drawing several shocked gazes from around them. 

Lovino ducked his head slightly, a smile tugging at his lips, "You're going to have everyone wondering what was said, 'Tonio." 

“It was a legitimate question," Gilbert muttered when Ivan kept staring at Antonio. 

Ivan tilted his head at Gilbert as the doors opened again, Sadiq striding through the door. Close observers would notice his left cuff was slightly burnt, and Heracles quite subdued behind him. "Ah, so we appear to be the last ones here," Sadiq said. "Well, someone has to be." 

Lovino's brows twitched very slightly and he glanced at Antonio, "He's never last to arrive. Wonder what happened." 

"Fire of some sort, or something," Lars finally spoke from where he had been a couple of paces behind Lovino and Antonio. 

Gilbert took one look at Heracles' expression and tried not to laugh. "Either way, that means we're all here now," he said, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, turning to see Alfred stride across the room directly for the Asians. "Oh shit." 

Lovino followed Gilbert's gaze and his jaw dropped, "Is he completely insane?" 

Ivan tilted his head, his shoulder brushing Gilbert's. "He wore that shirt to the meeting," he said, as if that explained everything about Alfred he needed to know.  Lovino nodded after a moment, his focus across the room where Kiku had turned slightly when he noticed Alfred approaching. 

"Can I help you?" Yao asked, turning around. 

"Yeah," Alfred said, stopping a few paces away and his stance wide. "I was just really wondering, I mean, it's been plaguing my mind, why you would break the neutrality pact by shooting at us the night before a city-wide meeting. I mean, I just can't make it fit, you know?" 

Yao narrowed his eyes. "Us, shoot at you? Then why is my guard in the hospital?" 

"Because apparently I can finish what you start."


	39. You Have Had Your Restitution

Silence had fallen around the room as attention was drawn toward Alfred and Yao.  Arthur started across the room, Cameron close behind him though it was certainly too late to intervene without trouble.

"Is that so?" Yao asked, folding his hands in front of him, and everyone was watching, Sadiq still near the door. "As for yourself, despite so prominently displaying a wound, you do not seem to be in much pain. Is that as much an act as your claim?"

"I handle pain well," Alfred said, voice sharp. "And I've been hearing that—that we shot at you first. Funny rumor. Considering it was the other way around."

Yao took a step toward him. "Do you have proof of that?"

"Do you?" Alfred shot back. "But seriously, who could believe it? Who has everything to lose and everything to gain here?"

"You're desperate," Yao said. "Desperate people do desperate things."

"But not suicidal ones," Arthur said, calmly from a couple of steps behind Alfred, coming to stand beside his heir.  "And to shoot at your people on neutral territory when we both agreed to a non-aggression pact would be suicide."

"You got the allies," Alfred said. "Through no major ability of your own, mind, but there you have it. You yanked ours away, congratulations. It's a good play, getting the Russians on your side."

"No one else was offering," Yao said.

Alfred spread his arms out, emphasizing his shirt again. "Did I deny that? Fuck no, good move. But no one would be stupid enough to break a pact like that the night before a major city-wide meeting with everything to lose! We break a pact, we're the villains, you have an excuse to blow up that war you've always wanted. Except you overplayed your hand because there is no way we would do that. Instead, you shot _us_ in _neutral_ territory."

"Which you were only in because you were desperate," Yao said, eyes sliding over to his guard.

Alfred threw his hands up again. "No shit, I already said you won that one."

Suong glanced toward Yao, meeting his eyes for a moment and recognizing that they were likely losing ground.  Kiku caught the glance before shifting his attention back to Alfred, "So you are saying that you did not fire first?"

"There was no reason for us to do so," Arthur said, his tone even regardless of the temper he was keeping leashed behind his words.

"You broke a neutrality pact?" Ivan asked, still standing by Gilbert and Alfred finally snapped his eyes away from Kiku, who he had been watching too closely.

"Of course we didn't shoot first," he said, quieter and in direct response to Kiku instead of anyone else.

Kiku didn't drop his gaze, simply because he knew there was a chance Yao or Suong would notice.  Arthur glanced at his heir, considering the tone of his answer quietly.

"Was this display necessary?" Yao asked. "Everyone is staring."

"Good," Alfred said, trying to keep his tone the same to distance it from Kiku. "Because that was the point."

Arthur felt the left corner of his lips twitch at that, but he curbed the smile that nearly formed, "I believe we were here for a meeting.  Now that everyone's arrived."

"Yes," Ludwig said, stepping in and trying not to look between Alfred and Kiku. "I believe we are. If everyone would like to go and sit down?" and he gestured through the door to where a table had been set up.

There was a brief pause before Haazita, Head of the African House, stepped through the doorway into the next room, her guard and heir right behind her. Gilbert followed, between Ivan and Ludwig, Yao almost directly behind them.

The room in question was mostly filled with a long conference table, closer to an oval than a rectangle, but sitting already at the far end was Nataraja, looking casual and composed but tense. "Oh, is social hour over?"

Arthur came to a complete stop just inside the door as soon as he heard Nataraja's voice.  A touch from Cameron on his back got him moving again, but the pause had been noticeable.

Yao, if possible, froze more obviously. "This is quite daring of you," he said. "I should kill you where you are."

"No," Ivan said, more suddenly but quieter then Arthur's own: "Don't you _dare_." 

Arthur stilled again as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his gaze darting in shock toward Ivan. Ivan looked at him a bit warily, Yao's face twisting and Nataraja sitting perfectly still. Too busy watching Ivan and Arthur agree on something, most of the attendees missed that Gilbert had placed himself roughly between Yao and Nataraja.

Arthur broke his gaze away from Ivan first, circling the table to take his seat.  Haazita spoke, "If you're done threatening physical violence at a meeting of the Houses, perhaps we can get started?"

"Yes," Ivan said and it brooked no opposition. The delegations from the Houses settled around the table after only a brief moment.

Ivan paused next to Gilbert for a moment at the bottom of the table, taking his hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Gilbert froze, several of those who had not taken their seats yet staring at the both of them. Alfred, who had accidentally ended up almost directly across from Kiku, stared too obviously and Nataraja pretended not to at all.

"I hate meetings," Ivan said under his breath, so only Gilbert could hear him.

"Ivan," Gilbert said after Ivan had released his hand. Ivan only smiled at him and walked to his side of the table. Ludwig shoved Gilbert's shoulder to make him move.

Kiku's eyebrows rose very slightly as he watched Ivan take his seat, but he cleared his expression and turned his attention away.

"Now then," Ludwig said, sitting next to Gilbert. "We were all called here for a reason. Let us get to that reason."

"The power in this city has been consistent for several years, but we've had one too many close calls during the past months." Haazita said, sparing a brief glance for Ivan.  "We all know why we can't afford another city-wide war," that caused more than a few unsubtle looks toward the Nordic House.

Matthias and Sigurd both looked like they were weighing the pros and cons of flipping off everyone around the table. Instead, Sigurd clasped his hands in front of him on the table and Matthias kicked the legs of his chair back.

"The point is that all evidence to the contrary, we would like not to start another war," Matthias said. "It would, after all, disrupt business."

"And which, exactly, events were you speaking of?" Ivan asked, head cocked to the side and voice pitched high. The empty chair next to him for an heir was too obvious.

Haazita tilted her chin up ever so slightly as she considered him, "You killed the Head of the German House on his own territory.  Regardless of how that worked out in the end the rest of the city was bracing for war.  More immediately I'm speaking of the conflict that has been left unattended and brought us to this meeting today.  Namely the English and Asian Houses."

"The Germans broke a pact," Ivan said, not looking at Yao.

"Yeah, look who joined their company," Alfred remarked from down the table and Ivan turned his head to stare at him.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured warningly, before leaning forward.  "Though he has a point. We would be well within our rights after last night to demand restitution over the breaking of our agreement."

"And what would you demand?" Kiku asked, calmly.  "When you are here and Mei lies in the hospital because of the damage you dealt her?  You have had your restitution."

"On a strictly personal level, sure," Alfred said, not looking at Kiku. "But this was a House issue. You attacked the Head and heir, breaking a pact in the meantime."

"Are you in a position of power to demand restitution?" Yao asked. "The Germans were not and did not."

"The Germans attempted negotiations," Arthur replied calmly, never taking his eyes off Yao.  "Perhaps restitution is too strong a word, though one might think from your attempt on my life, and that of my heir, that you sought to cripple my House."

Ivan sat completely still, smile frozen in place, and Gilbert blinked at him for a long moment before he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, holding it under the table.

"Our situations were different," Ludwig said, tense.

Arthur paused for a moment and then nodded, "True.  My apologies for the comparison.  In both regards," he glanced toward Ivan and then turned back to Yao.  "This gets us no closer to anything.  What do you want, Yao?  One would think you had taken it some time ago."  Cameron made a quiet sound in the back of his throat which Arthur ignored completely.

Yao's eyebrows twitched up. "You have a sore spot?" he asked sweetly and Gilbert thumbed open Toris' number on his phone, not looking down.

Arthur offered him a thin smile that looked more vicious than amused, "We're getting too old for these games.  You've threatened my House before.  I simply wish to know what you want this time."

"For you to finally learn you place, perhaps?" Yao offered.

That earned a harsh laugh, "If I was in the place you want me I'd be six feet under cold earth.  I have as much right to the place I hold as you do yours."

Suong tensed where she was sitting next to Yao at the implication and insult in Arthur's words. "And yet still you run around the city, as if you can balance all the power within it," Yao said. "Do you deny going to each other in turn, of interfering in other's affairs not your own? Even when your toys are taken away from you, you insist upon playing this game." Yao stared at Nataraja who in turn was looking only vaguely at whoever was speaking.

"I do not deny it.  I never have," Arthur said simply, ignoring Yao's reference to Nataraja and Leon and refusing to look toward the head of the table.  "Is that what you demand to stall your attempts on my House?  That I stop? It's no great loss."

"You are incapable of stopping," Yao said.

"I've never actually tried," Arthur replied. "So I don't believe you have any evidence for that assertion."

"Perhaps not," Yao inclined his head.

"I did not think this was going to be a personal grudge match," Antonio said. "I have better things to do if it is."

Arthur glanced toward Antonio and nodded once, "You're right of course.  Though many conflicts in this city are inherently personal.  This though?"  He looked back at Yao, a frown creasing his brow, "This is a power demonstration, isn't it?"

"I don't know what—" Yao started.

"Don't even," Alfred said, too harshly. "You know exactly what this is—why else bring the whole city together to gloat over your coup of allying with the best people and leaving us more or less alone?"

"Well, you certainly have learned your own brand of power play, haven't you?" Yao replied, looking at his shirt.

"What can I say?" Alfred spread his hands out, Nataraja's head moving between everyone who spoke. "You shot first. And then tried to say you didn't."

"Yet you walk away with barely a graze and the person you shot could easily have died there in that alley," Kiku said, his voice quiet but firm.

"And how exactly is it my fault I happen to have better aim?" Alfred said, with too much emphasis as he stared across the table. "They shot me, I shot back, I just happen to have done it _better_."

Kiku's eyes narrowed very slightly, his expression not changing more than that, “Congratulations.  How very _heroic_ of you to be the better shot."

"Some things aren't about heroism," Alfred said, voice doing something funny before he clamped down on it for the final word. "But I'm sorry, it would be easier for your House if it was the other way around, wouldn't it? If I was the one dead or almost dead and you were the ones able to tell whichever side of the story you wanted."

Kiku's hand actually twitched where it rested on the table, "That is not the point."

"Then what is?" Alfred snapped.

"The point is that regardless of what politics took place you cannot act as though you are of a better sort.  This is not the first skirmish between our Houses in recent times and the last time you were the aggressors," his gaze flicked away from Alfred toward Cameron and then back for the briefest of moments.

"I didn't break any pacts," Alfred snarled. " _I_ never _have_."

Kiku blinked once, slowly, "I did not say you yourself ever did.  But as heir you are speaking for your House.  And they have."

"Sure, but the past is the past and right now—" Alfred broke off suddenly, seeing Gilbert lean up to whisper a question in Ludwig's ear, and Ludwig leaning down to respond in kind. Abruptly, horrifyingly remembering the night of the fair and what Ludwig knew, Alfred snapped his mouth shut.

Kiku glanced in the direction of the German House and tipped his chin up very slightly as he sat back, cutting off the urge to demand Alfred finish what he was saying as the reminder that Ludwig knew had hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"But the point is now is not the past, it's a different situation," Alfred finished, much more subdued and Ludwig blinked because they had both looked at him.

"I guess that helps answer your question," he muttered under his breath to Gilbert, who shook his head slightly beside him. Every once in a while, Gilbert glanced from his phone over to Ivan and tapped out a few more keys.

"Can you really say the past has no bearing on this?" Kiku asked, his tone calm again and he carefully did not react to the echo of a conversation they'd had about history and the lessons therein.

"No, but saying we broke a pact years ago has no bearing on the fact you decided to do it this time," Alfred said, more subdued.

"Months," Kiku corrected, his voice nearly cold.  "I was shot by your guard."

"At a time when both of our Houses were allied against each other," Arthur said, finally cutting in from where he had been watching Alfred's reactions with a small frown.  "It is not the same situation."

"We had no pact of non-aggression then," Alfred said. "We did last night." He tried to hide his wince.

"The entire city knows how solid your pacts actually are," Kiku said in response.

"The fuck does that mean?" Alfred demanded, voice getting higher again.

Abruptly, Gilbert stood up and as everyone stared at him, he walked around the table and sat in the empty seat next to Ivan. Kiku blinked in Gilbert's direction, but shook his head slightly, not explaining his words to Alfred, having seen the barb hit home with Arthur. Alfred narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, mouth set and anger in every line of his body.

"As I said," Antonio repeated. "We can just go home if this is a pissing match."

Haazita nodded, but Arthur spoke first, "Agreed.  Since there doesn't seem to be anything pressing here."

Yao opened his mouth but Nataraja beat him to it, speaking suddenly. "Perhaps, or perhaps not. After all, to have everyone in one place is a unique opportunity."

"And who are you to be the one to decide that?" Eva asked, folding her elbows on the table in front of her.

"Let him speak," Ivan chirped, and Gilbert put a hand on his leg under the table. Startling slightly, Ivan looked at him and slowly the line of his shoulders dropped and his smile shifted.

Haazita turned her attention toward Nataraja, looking him over for a long moment, "Explain, if you would."

"As, I believe, Mr. Wang pointed out," and Yao's scowl increased dramatically at the use of his last name. "Mr. Kirkland has been trying as best he can to keep a balance of power and track of alliances. Now, he did it on his own and that was a mistake. However, if you would all rather not have a border dispute between two longtime rivals turn into full out war, perhaps now would be a good time to take account."

"You expect us to lay out our conflicts and alliances here?" Haazita asked, her brows rising sharply.

"Well, yes," Nataraja said. "If you do not want to risk war because of being obscure and oblique."

"You are asking a dangerous risk of some of us," Haazita said.

"Yes, perhaps," Nataraja inclined his head. "Or perhaps that level of refusing to be honest is what led to the last war."

"Official," Arthur corrected quietly from where he sat, carefully looking at neither Nataraja nor the Nordic House.  "It's a concern that any statements here can be considered official."

Nataraja hummed. "Yes, official. That was what I was looking for. And perhaps making other things official."

"Other things?" Arthur asked, finally looking toward Nataraja.

"Those shadowy deals and alliances no one talks about but everyone knows."

"Officially neutral," Matthias said, slamming his hand down on the table and making several other people around it jump, including Ludwig. "There. That a good start?"

"Our House as well," Haazita said firmly.  "Fully, officially, neutral.  We will have no part in your squabbles and alliances."

"But will trade with all of us," Ludwig said.

"As we have for years," Haazita agreed.

"Trade agreements are still a matter of politics," Nataraja said. "Perhaps you are less neutral then you have ever planned."

"The Houses cannot stand completely on their own.  That was a determination made years ago," Haazita said with a small frown.  "Though the trade agreements will need to be reassessed in a more,” she wrinkled her nose very slightly, “official capacity I think."

Nataraja inclined his head, pleased.

"There is rather a tangled web of alliances in the middle of the city," Ludwig said after a beat, trying not to look where Gilbert had moved down the table. The empty seat next to him felt too exposed.

"We could be here all night discussing that knot of neutrality, and alliances or lack thereof," Arthur said, letting his gaze shift around the table.

"Then perhaps it would be good that we were," Ludwig said blandly back.

Arthur pursed his lips at that, but nodded once, not even remotely inclined to be the first to start detangling that mess.

"I am allied with the Germans," Ivan said after a beat, Gilbert sliding his eyes over to look at him. For a moment there was silence before Ivan added. "And the Asians."

"Yes," Ludwig nodded. "Though we are not in a total alliance with the Asians ourselves. Unless the Russian House gets involved, we will not go to war for the Asian House."

A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched before he finally spoke, "My House is entirely unallied, with few neutrality pacts that have been recently discussed or confirmed."

"Allied with the Germans, neutrality with the English," Sadiq said. "Until such a time as that may become an issue."

"And if it does?" Nataraja asked.

"We will sit down and have a serious conversation with all sides before breaking any pacts," Sadiq said, just as calmly. "Unlike some people," he added, a jab at Arthur as much as Yao.

Arthur's hand tensed and then relaxed again where it rested on the table and he inclined his head to Sadiq very slightly in acknowledgment of the criticism as much as in reference to his stance on the pact. Yao looked annoyed, not having realized Sadiq still had that neutrality pact. The blow of that news had come very closely after Ivan all but leaving out their alliance.

"The same as us," Antonio said after a beat, chin lazily in the palm of his hand. "We have an alliance with the Germans, and so far nothing with the Asians. I will not go to war for the petty squabbles of two Houses I have little interest in. Unless the German House asks for our aid for a reason that would bring benefit to the both of us, I refuse to go to war for a vaguely tangential alliance."

"And what of your House, Eva?" Haazita asked after a moment.

Eva tapped her nails on the table for a moment, staring at Antonio. "Our situation is in flux," she admitted after a moment. "We have a neutrality pact with the Germans and the Mediterranean Houses. We may have more, but at the moment, no firm alliances."

"I believe we can all hazard a guess at yours," Arthur said, focusing on Yao, "seeing as everyone else has already spoken."

Yao inclined his head. "Indeed. Though we have a neutrality pact with the Mediterraneans as well."

"Ah, yes," Sadiq said. "My bad. I should have written down a chart before coming in."

"It is old," Yao said, trying to be gracious and still looking furious at Sadiq. "I can easily see how it slipped your mind. Otherwise, yes, alliance with the Germans and the Russians."

"Rather less of a tangle than it looks at first glance," Haazita remarked.

"See, perhaps it is not so bad to be honest," Nataraja said, trying not to smile.

"Is there anything else to be discussed while we're all here?" Arthur asked, rather than offer some dry remark to Nataraja.

"What would happen if war did break out," Ivan said after a beat.

"What do you mean?" Ludwig frowned over at him, Gilbert still sitting beside Ivan. He was sprawled out and looked casual as his eyes roved over the table, but at some point Ivan had taken his hand, and they were both resting on the table between them.

"Ludwig has a very good question there," Arthur said, considering Ivan warily as he had little doubt of what would happen on the part of his House should it come to that.

Ivan's eyes flickered around and Gilbert's fingers had gone white around his hand. Matthias perhaps looked the most interested of anyone at the table. "You all talk," Ivan said finally. "Of how horrible the last war was, of how Houses were almost destroyed. And yet despite all that you have never tried to put in rules about how war should be fought."

"We've always had rules," Eva said.

"Yes and they have not changed at all in response to the old war," Sadiq said, eying Ivan in confusion.

"What, are we a political and respectable body now, like the United Nations?" Eva asked. "Are we going to create a criminal court to control gangsters now?"

"No, he has a point," Haazita said.  "The rules didn't change, and look how well they worked last time.  They only even partially work during times of peace. Or as close as we get in this city."

"Alfred and Kiku have both been shot in a very short amount of time," Sigurd remarked quietly, next to Matthias. "They are both heirs."

"We need _something_ in place," Lovino said, glancing toward Sigurd.  "We're not exactly honorable, we're gangsters for Christ's sake, but we have no consequences for breaking the rules that don't mean more violence which then leads to more retribution."  He fell silent, realizing he may have overstepped in how much he had said.

Antonio flickered a smile over to him and Ivan nodded. Sadiq still stared at Ivan like he had never seen him before.

"Yes," Ivan said after a beat. "I do not mean a court but," he hesitated, looking at Gilbert who carefully did not move one way or the other. "Some system."

"Mediators."  Arthur said after a moment, "It would have to be different in each instance, but people from Houses unrelated to the incident.  That includes direct alliances."

"That could be a very complicated system," Sadiq said. "Unless everyone could agree on one person."

Nataraja carefully remained still where he sat.

Arthur's hands tensed and it took him several breaths before he spoke again, "Technically we already have a mediator."

"Yes," Sadiq allowed because Ivan was now staring at him again. "Who showed up and got threatened to be shot by one of the Heads. Hey, Yao, would you accept this mediator?"

"No," Yao growled.

"And there's where it gets complicated," Sadiq said, gesturing with one hand.

"I feel a more relevant question is would you accept _any_ mediator," Arthur asked, looking to Yao.

Yao considered him a long moment and looked at Ivan. "Perhaps," he allowed.

"Funny," Sadiq commented. "Until five minutes ago I was pretty sure you'd never accept his particular mediation either, Arthur."

"I can admit he's good at what he does," Arthur said, his tone carefully neutral. Humming, Sadiq leaned back in his chair.

"We're unlikely to find someone we can all agree on," Haazita said.  "Anyone we propose will have ties to one of the Houses, which makes them virtually useless as mediator."

"Unless there's a revolving door of them," Sadiq said, "Or enough time passes one might emerge without ties to any House." Nataraja opened his mouth and calmly decided to shut it again.

"In this city?"  Arthur shook his head, biting back what might have been a laugh, "Anyone in a position to know enough to act as mediator has ties somewhere at some point."

"Ties do not always have to be cause for rejection," Ludwig said. "Ties that have led to rivalries or anger, yes, but everyone has to come from somewhere."

"Could make a school of mediators at some point," Sadiq said.

"A school," Arthur said, drawing the words out slowly.

"Perhaps something to be considered in the future," Haazita cut in.  "This is clearly not something we will be able to settle tonight."

"No," Sadiq agreed, Antonio looking bored but constantly moving his head as each new person spoke. "But if anyone is serious about these issues, we may have reason to talk about it again."

"Even having the forum of meetings like this might be enough to dissuade some violence," Ludwig said and Gilbert's fingers went white on Ivan's hand again.

Arthur hummed noncommittally at that, "Something to consider, anyhow.  We'll all need to be in contact about this, regardless of the forum we choose to utilize."

"I'm sure we'll be able to come to some conclusion," Sadiq said, as Alfred snuck a cautious look at Kiku.

"One would hope so," Haazita said. "Lines of communication need to be more open than they have been."

"Such an infrastructure would take time to create," Eva said. "But perhaps not be a bad thing," she said, staring significantly at Antonio who looked like he wanted to ignore her.

"So we're in agreement then?" Arthur asked.  "We see about lines of communication and pursue the idea of mediators and find some arrangement to interact on a larger scale than the two-House meetings with more regularity?"

"I believe that is an agreement, yes," Sadiq said, looking like he did not quite believe Arthur would stick with such a scheme.

"I suppose we must agree to do what we must," Yao said after sneaking a look at Ivan.

"Good.  Now that that's decided," Haazita rose from her seat at the table.  "We will be in touch."

The corners of Sadiq's mouth twitched, as Antonio was the second one to rise. Arthur waited only a moment longer before getting to his feet as the other Heads started moving as well.

Ivan stood, Gilbert's hand still in his. "Come with me," he said quietly and Gilbert tensed for a long moment.

"I need to get my Head home safe," he said, tilting his head back to meet Ivan's eyes. "I'll come tomorrow. I promise, okay? I'll come tomorrow but I can't tonight."

Across the room, Lovino glanced at his watch and then at Antonio, speaking in an undertone, "Are you still planning to talk to Eva about the guard and Alfonso, or are we heading home?"

"We're heading home," Antonio said. "And then we'll deal with—" he broke off, because Ivan had leaned down, dragging Gilbert against his chest and kissing him across the room.

Lovino blinked rapidly in that direction, "That is....very public."

"Yes," Antonio said, frowning at the amount Gilbert had tensed, but also noticing Alfred stopping dead from where he had not quite followed Arthur and staring.

Lovino let his gaze drift around the room, pausing when he saw the way Kiku was watching Ivan and Gilbert.  There was something just off of neutral about the Asian House heir's expression that Lovino couldn't identify.

"That's going to blow up," Antonio commented, though whether it was because he was noticing Alfred or Kiku's expression or simply watching Gilbert and Ivan was up for debate.

Feeling Gilbert tense in his arms, Ivan pulled back, face twisted. "If you," he started, pitched too high and Gilbert grabbed the back of his head, shoving their foreheads together.

"In public, Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Just surprised me is all. I'll come over tomorrow, I promised, yeah? I'll see you then."

Ivan still looked unhappy, but he nodded, finally pulling away and walking over to Winter. Lili finally approached Gilbert once Ivan had moved away, not saying anything.

"Let's get home," Gilbert said, letting out a long breath. " _Right now_."

She nodded once, "Alright."  She turned, spotting Ludwig and starting toward him on the way to the door, "Gilbert says we need to be going home."

Ludwig blinked, turning to his brother. "I wanted to ask," he started and Gilbert pointed to the door.

"I'll drive, just go."

Lili glanced toward Gilbert and then to Ludwig, speaking quietly, "If Gilbert says we need to go, we need to go." Ludwig watched Gilbert's face for a moment before nodding, and leading the way to the door, Gilbert tense and constantly watching behind him and Lili.

Kiku watched as the German House delegation left before his eyes drifted toward Alfred again.  Somehow he had expected it would be easier to see the other when he was angry at him, but it felt like the evening was choking him instead.

Alfred was still staring at the spot where Gilbert and Ivan had been standing, almost completely missing Ivan's actual exit from the room. He looked like he hoped the patch of ground would give him an answer. Finally, his eyes flickered up, catching Kiku's.

Holding Alfred's gaze for a moment longer than was probably safe, Kiku finally blinked and looked away, shifting his shoulders as though to better settle his coat across them. For another moment, Alfred stared at him, unwilling to let him get away with looking away. Kiku glanced toward Alfred again, catching his eyes and unable to look away.

Yao was talking quietly and quickly to Sadiq, who looked amused more than worried or annoyed. Across the room, Alfred tried to convince him to move away.

Kiku shot a nervous glance toward Yao and where Suong was paying far more attention to Sadiq and his guard than to Kiku himself before he slipped out of the main meeting room toward the foyer, knowing there were alcoves and hallways that shot off from there to offer excuses if Yao asked after his whereabouts.

Almost instantly Alfred was moving, going out another doorway to meet up in the same room. Kiku was waiting for him down a small hallway off from the entry, his attention as much on the doors to the conference room as they were on Alfred's approach.

"That's daring," Alfred remarked.

"There is not an excuse for the side rooms, but this hallway leads a few places," Kiku said.

"I meant walking out period," Alfred said, folding his arms over his chest and only drawing more attention both to his arm and shirt.

Kiku's eyes narrowed at Alfred's shirt, "You are the one who followed me.  And would not stop staring."

"Did that bother you?" Alfred asked.

"It was foolish."

"Oh yeah, foolish," Alfred said. "Worst fucking sin all day."

"You are a complete bastard," Kiku said, his voice quiet.

Alfred froze, not breathing before he shrugged, an exaggerated and causal gesture. "Okay, sure."

"No.  You do not get to do that," Kiku said, a very slight tremor in his voice.  "You _told me_ in front of the Heads of both of our Houses that I would prefer you dead rather than Mei injured.  How dare you."

Alfred opened his mouth, closed it again and settled back on his heels. "That's—oh."

"You asked me to choose between you and someone who has been close to me since we were children.  Someone who is practically my sister.  And I had to sit there and answer you in front of every power holder in the city," Kiku shook his head.  "I came out here because you would not stop staring, but I am not certain I am actually ready to speak with you."

"You could have at least," Alfred started and clicked his jaw shut.

"At least what?" Kiku asked, looking up at Alfred.

"Left your damn phone on," he muttered. "Leon told us Mei was still alive. I didn't sleep last night."

"I did not wish to speak to anyone last night," Kiku said after a moment, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.  "What would you even have said?"

"Who says I had to be the one to say anything?" Alfred asked. "It might have been nice to know if I'd killed her, if we were going to war, that Yao and that—" he adjusted his words abruptly "—guard of his were already lying about it!"

Kiku shifted his weight back, his expression closing off entirely, "It appears you found that out without me.  If you will excuse me, I should get back before Yao misses me."

"Right," Alfred said, too annoyed for words. "Of course."

Kiku turned to go, but paused and turned back to face Alfred again, "You keep acting as though this is somehow my fault.  Yes, I turned off my phone last night. Perhaps I should have thought to text you before I did, but I will not apologize for that possible oversight.  What would you have done if it had been Matthew?"

Alfred's jaw shifted. "It's not your fault. I'm angry as fuck and it's not your fault."

"Then please do not take that out on me.  I cannot handle that right now," Kiku said, his voice shaking and his brow creasing, pain and exhaustion in his gaze for a moment before he got control of his expression again.  "I am terrified that she will take a turn for the worse and I will have to deal with all of this over again.  I know it was self-defense.  But Mei is still not awake the last I heard."

Alfred stared at him for a long moment. "Right," he said finally, turning on his heel and walking away. Kiku flinched, taking far longer than he was comfortable with to gather himself before slipping back into the conference room to Yao's side.

o-o-o

Gilbert closed the door behind him, having made sure Lili and Ludwig were both in the house before he was.

Leaning his hips on the bannister at the top of the stairs, Feliks gave him a slow clap from where Toris and Feliks had obviously been waiting for them to get home. "Congratulations on your Ivan wrangling," he said, and Gilbert collapsed all at once against the door, sliding down until he was sitting and burying his face in his hands; it looked like he was actually breathing for the first time in a while.

Toris had visibly relaxed when the three of them came through the door, leaning against the bannister next to Feliks, "You did it right, if the lack of blood and their confusion is any indication."

"What?" Ludwig asked, turning around from where he had narrowed his eyes at Feliks. "What are they talking about—brother are you okay?"

"I'm not okay I feel like I can't breathe," Gilbert muttered.

"Is that why you were in a hurry to leave?" Lili asked quietly as Toris started down the stairs.

"You must have moved mid-meeting?" He asked, focused on Gilbert.

"Yes," Gilbert said.

"I was wondering," Ludwig started. "And the texting?"

"To Toris," Gilbert said. "Ivan was about to flip his shit."

Toris nodded his agreement, "I don't think I've witnessed him at a level like you were describing, Gilbert."

"You're fucking kidding." Gilbert muttered.

"What?" Ludwig managed.

"He doesn't," Toris hesitated, shaking his head slightly, "he doesn't like meetings.  So that would have put him on edge before anything was even said."

"Oh my god," Gilbert groaned. "He even told me right before everyone sat down—I hate meetings. It took me a whole minute to figure that one out."

Ludwig blinked once before his face paled. "Has he been to... any... meetings?"

"Russian House, far as I can tell, doesn't do meetings," Gilbert said, still against the door and with his knees drawn up. "Nothing like Otho used to have at the restaurant, hell, not even House to House meetings usually. Far as I can tell the House has breakfast together and then checks in with Ivan when and where he wants them to."

Toris nodded very slightly, "Formal meetings are, well, they aren't associated with anything good in the Russian House."

"When he came to power," Ludwig started, unable to finish the sentence.

"Probably," Gilbert said. "He and Winter killed a lot of people at a meeting." He shook his head. "And that was _after_ Alfred Jones had a go at him."

"You're fortunate it went as well as it did," Toris said, quietly.

"No kidding," Gilbert said. "Jones is a—I don't even know."

"I thought you got along," Ludwig remarked, sitting down next to his brother.

"We do but he's still a special snowflake of brash idiocy in this city," Gilbert muttered. "He told Ivan he wasn't scared of him and reminded him in one swoop that most of the city thinks I whored myself out to him to keep my family safe."

Still at the top of the stairs, Feliks let out a squeak and ducked his head down. Toris paled at that, "And this was before you even _sat down_?"

"It gets worse!" Gilbert said, holding up a hand and with his head still hanging down. " _Then_ Jones fucking confronted Yao in front of everyone for breaking their neutrality pact. Y'know. Ivan's _ally_."

Toris reached out and set his hand on the bannister at the bottom of the stairs for support, "How exactly did you all get out of there in one piece?"

"Because we, I mean, Otho," Ludwig started and stared at his brother. "Then he kissed your hand and you tensed."

"Right," Gilbert said. "Fucking public displays of affection. Then Yao threatened to kill Nataraja and Arthur and Ivan both freaked out at him. Then we sat down."

"I need a drink," Feliks decided.

"I would like six," Gilbert muttered.

"You have something stronger than beer or wine in this house, yes?" Toris asked.

"Why are you all planning to get drunk?" Roderich asked from behind Feliks where he had heard the last few sentences but nowhere near enough context.

"Ivan spent the meeting ready to kill everyone in the room," Gilbert said and paused. "I probably would have survived. Not sure about anyone fucking else at that point."

Roderich's eyebrows rose sharply at that, "Alcohol it is then.  Music?"

"No, Nataraja maybe," Gilbert said after a beat. "I might have managed to protect Lud and Lili based on his goodwill toward me. But everyone else was as good as dead most of the meeting." He paused a long moment. "I don't know if Yao and Ivan's alliance is going to survive that." He finally looked back at Roderich. "Drunk jamming. _All night_."

"I bet people would pay to see that," Feliks remarked.

Toris huffed slightly at that, offering Feliks a wry glance, "Drinks then."

Lili looked between all of them, speaking quietly, "I think I'm going to bed.  Good night."

"Well, it's lucky for you then that you don't have to pay," Gilbert said, dragging himself to his feet. "Sleep well, Lili," he added.

Still sitting by the door, Ludwig considered before pulling out his phone, watching Gilbert and Roderich lead the way to the music room by way of the pantry.

Feliciano picked up on the second ring, "Ludwig?"

"Did everyone make it home?" Ludwig asked.

"Yes? Just a little while ago," Feliciano's confusion over the question was audible.

"Oh, good," Ludwig said. "That's good. I'm glad."

"Why do you ask? Is everything alright?  Are you home alright?"

"We got home alright," Ludwig said. "Gilbert made sure of that. Apparently," he wanted to laugh, and realized it would come out as hysteric. "That uh, was a closer call then anyone realized."

Feliciano's voice wavered very slightly, "What happened? Lars said the meeting went better than expected except for Eva's guard."

"Ivan," Ludwig said. "Apparently was angrier then anyone had ever seen him before." A hysterical laugh did bubble up. "I wouldn't have known. I don't think anyone else noticed."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, "I'm coming over.  Just let me get my shoes and coat."

"I'm not," Ludwig started. "We're getting drunk. Hell, Roderich and Gilbert and Feliks I know already are and I'm going to be joining them."

"I'll bring some wine and my sketchbook," Feliciano said.

"Gilbert and Roderich will be playing drunk music all night," Ludwig added.

"Alright. That could be fun to listen to,"  Some clattering could be heard as Feliciano nearly off balanced trying to get his jacket on without setting the phone down.

"I mean, if you're still sure with all of that," Ludwig said after a beat.

"Completely.  Let me leave a note with Bella and Lars so Lovino doesn't flip once he and Antonio have calmed down about Alfonso and Eva's guard and I'll be on my way," Feliciano said, rustling paper indicating he was shoving his sketchbook into a bag.

Ludwig blinked, having mostly missed that particular drama. "Okay," he said finally.

"See you soon."

"Yeah," Ludwig agreed, trying not to smile like a fool in case anyone else came into the room.

Feliciano's smile was audible, "Talk soon, I need to hang up so I can leave a message and then drive."

"I suppose that's okay then," Ludwig said, letting his head rest against the back of the wall.

Feliciano hung up to let Bella know where he was going and head over, more than glad to leave the tension of his own House behind for the night.

o-o-o

Kasem fell into step with Nataraja outside of the building where the meeting had been held, "That sounded eventful."

"I'm still alive," Nataraja said, hands shaking a little.

Kasem watched him carefully, noting the tremble, but not saying anything about it, "Did they come to any decisions?"

"Their system is screwed and mediators sound like a great idea in principle, though I almost got shot."

"But you _didn't_ which is a good thing," Kasem said.  "And I take that to mean they're not looking to you as mediator."

"They mentioned, uh, my inability to be fully neutral," Nataraja said. "Some would not accept my arbitration."

"You mean Yao and Arthur," Kasem said, a small frown on his face.

"Yao mostly," Nataraja agreed. "Ivan likes me too much, too."

"So on the one hand you have people willing to shoot you and on the other people who like you too much?"

"Something like that. It would be hard to trust my reasoning if it promoted Ivan, too easy to say I did it for personal reasons." He walked with long strides away from the building. "Damn, damn, damn."

"It's hard to be neutral in this city," Kasem muttered, taking three steps for every two Nataraja took.  "You think they'll actually figure something out?"

"They mentioned a school, over time," Nataraja said. "I didn't bring up your name."

Kasem blinked slowly, "A school.  Do they really think that would work?"

"No," Nataraja said. "Who the fuck would run it?"

"And you said you didn't mention me?" Kasem confirmed.

"No," Nataraja said. "You're my secret weapon. Though," he stopped, looking over. "You still haven't ever told me why you're doing this."

"You haven't ever really asked," Kasem said with a shrug, stopping and turning slightly to face Nataraja.

"Usually people are upfront about risking life and limb," Nataraja said.

"I didn't like where I was.  And, when I started, working with you seemed a better alternative than going out on my own," Kasem said after a long moment.

Nataraja looked at him a long moment. "That both is an answer and isn't all at once. Congratulations, you just might make it."

Kasem's lips kicked up on the left side, "What do you know, I'm learning."

"It's been a long slow process," Nataraja said.

"But it's happened," Kasem pointed a finger at Nataraja as if ticking off a point.

"At least one time, yes," Nataraja said. "Now let's see if any other points can get through your head."

"They're getting there," Kasem insisted.

"You're just trying to convince me of that so I don't throw you out," Nataraja said.

Kasem grinned in response, "Okay you caught me.  But seriously, I'm getting it.  Slowly, but I am."

Nataraja's fingers flexed again. "It's going to become more dangerous," he said quietly.

"How much?" Kasem asked, his voice matching Nataraja's for tone.

"Depends," Nataraja said. "On if anyone goes to war or not. But there is a lot of tension in that room and they both reminded themselves of the tension, not to mention making more."

"Anything specific we should keep an eye on?"

"Russians, Asians, and English," he said. "Romans and Latins might blow up or settle down, we'll see in a couple days."

Kasem rubbed a hand over his face, "Well shit."

"We do what we've always done," Nataraja said after a beat. "We wait and we stay careful."

"We wait too long and the city'll go to war," Kasem said.

"Yes," Nataraja said. "Though I'm starting to question the effectiveness of this strategy."

"We don't really have another one."

"I meant trying to mediate anything," Nataraja said, pace increasing.

Kasem came to a complete stop at that, having to scramble to catch up a moment later, "You can't honestly mean that."

"I don't know," he said.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Kasem demanded.  "You left to do this and now you're telling me you're not sure it's a good idea?"

"I'm saying circumstances are a little more beyond my control or anticipation then I expected," he said. "I don't fucking know."

"You're only one man, but that doesn't mean you can just," Kasem broke off with a shake of his head.

"Doesn't mean what, Kasem?" Nataraja snapped.

"So things aren't in your control.  We live in this fucking city," Kasem said, his tone rising to meet Nataraja's again.  "Nothing's ever in anyone's control.  It's whoever has the biggest goddamn stick."

"But what good is it?" Nataraja yelled, realizing suddenly where they were and snapping his mouth shut again, walking faster.

"Did you expect to change everything?" Kasem asked, following him, but keeping his voice down, "Things _are_ changing.  But they're slow.  And all we can do is lay the foundations."

"It's a fuck of a lot to give up for something you'll never see," Nataraja said. "Let me sleep it off. I’ll be better in the morning."

Kasem nodded, falling silent for a long moment, "What do you know about the English and Asian heirs?"

"Not as much as I could," Nataraja muttered. "Why?"

"They had a fight.  Or, or something in the hallway after the meeting," Kasem said.

"What?" Nataraja looked over. "Their fight during the meeting wasn't enough for them?"

"I don't know what their fight in the meeting was, but I can guess.  This seemed personal," Kasem glanced at Nataraja.  "There were mentions of phone calls."

Nataraja stopped dead from where he was about to make a snide comment about them being worse than the old generation. "What?" He mentally reshuffled his deck, reconsidering their fight.

Kasem nodded, stopping as well, "Kiku shut his phone off last night.  After the shooting.  Kirkland's heir was pissed about that and Kiku was pissed about some comment about him preferring Alfred—that's the right name yeah? I can't always tell them apart—dead rather than Mei injured?  I think that's what it was?"

Nataraja stared at him. "Holy _shit_."

"It gets better, worse, whichever," Kasem said.

"How?"

"You remember the kid?  Leon?  I've only got loose memories about that whole mess, but his name came up.  As in he's how the English heir knew what had happened—namely that Mei wasn't dead."

"Holy _shit_ " Nataraja repeated.

Kasem nodded, eyes wide, "What are the chances that Yao and Arthur didn't notice anything today?"

"Very slim, though _what_ they noticed will probably be based on past interactions and things they know," he said. "I knew something was up but I had no fucking clue what it might be."

"Well, whatever it was may have crumbled tonight," Kasem said after another moment.  "Though, if it holds on and manages to go undetected long enough it could be a good thing."

"Could be," Nataraja said. "What we don't fucking need is a recreation of West Side Story here."

"Fucking hell.  No we really don't."

Nataraja ran a hand over his face, as if he had just been confronted both with something that made him more exhausted, but also energized to continue his work.

"Nothing more we can do tonight, though," Kasem said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Right," Nataraja nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haazita is Zambia, by the by.
> 
> Sorry this update took so long, this summer has been....a long string of ups and downs for both of us and it just....yeah. Anyhow. Hope you all enjoyed the meeting! Time to batten down the hatches folks we're on the downhill slope toward the conflict of the third act.


	40. Hangover Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a line of misgendering in the middle of this chapter--Cameron uses Kate's birth name.

Antonio sat, staring at Alfonso toss and turn on the bed, still feverish and confused. His fingers were folded under his chin and his brows were furrowed. "Yelling at you right now would be useless," he muttered, Alfonso half turning his head toward him.

"His fever ought to break soon," Lovino said from where he was standing with his hands resting on the back of Antonio's chair.

"Yes, hopefully in time for me to strangle him," Antonio muttered.

"I can't believe he—" Lovino shook his head. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"That he was in love probably," Antonio said quietly. "People do stupid things for love."

"It explains some things, I guess," Lovino muttered, leaning more on the chair.

"Some things?" Antonio asked, tilting his head back.

"He always gets tense when we mention shooting women from that House."

"Yeah, in hindsight that's a lot more obvious," Antonio muttered.

Lovino hummed, "I still don't get why in the first place."

"Do you get why I love you?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah, but this is," Lovino let out a frustrated breath, "we've known each other a long time."

"Yeah," Antonio said. "But that's still your answer."

Lovino grimaced, "Love's a mess."

"Right?" Antonio laughed, reaching a hand up to cover Lovino's. "I can attest to that."

Lovino slid his other hand around to tilt Antonio's head back so he could lean down and kiss him. Antonio's mouth flickered into a smile, his hand coming up to tangle in Lovino's hair. Lovino drew away after a moment, his hands moving from the back of the chair to Antonio's shoulders.

Antonio sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I suppose nothing more is going to happen tonight," he said finally.

"You coming to bed then?" Lovino asked quietly, his gaze on Alfonso.

"Yeah, I guess," Antonio said, finally pushing himself to his feet.

The door opened and Bella paused just inside, "Oh good, you're both here. I was heading to bed and wanted to let you know that Feliciano wanted me to tell you that he's at the German House tonight and not to expect him home."

"What?" Antonio asked, rising and leaving the room, closing the door behind them so Alfonso might get more rest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Feliciano left about an hour ago and told me to tell you that he was staying at the German House tonight," Bella repeated.

Lovino frowned, pulling his phone out, "I'll call Feli."

Antonio had already sent a text to Gilbert. "Did he say anything else about why he was going there tonight?"

"No, he took a bottle of wine and his sketchbook and left."

Lovino frowned at his phone, waiting for his twin to pick up. When he did Lovino set it to speaker, "Feliciano, what are you doing?"

"Didn't Bella tell you?"

"Not enough to answer my question."

"I'm staying the night over here. I took wine and my sketchbook."

Lovino growled in frustration, "Yes but why?"

"Because I did."

There was a crashing sound from the other side of the phone, and then a very loud note on the flute.

"What the hell is going on over there?"

"The meeting went worse than you two said it did. I would rather deal with Ludwig's stress than yours so I came over here."

Lovino grit his teeth, "We're not stressed."

"Yes you are. There was a very irate woman who called for Alfonso and I had to tell her he was still delirious with fever, but I was able to guess enough, so no I wasn't staying at home."

"Which wine did you take?" Lovino asked, recognizing that Feliciano was getting snappish.

"Not yours."

"Feli..."

"The Veneto Merlot." Feliciano's tone was clipped, "Not. Your. Wine. I'm staying the night. Goodnight, Lovi." He hung up.

Antonio blinked over at Lovino, texting Gilbert and getting back in all capitals, "IVAN WAS READY TO KILL EVERYONE. ALL NIGHT DRUNK JAM WILL TALK MORE TOMORROW."

"What?" Antonio managed.

Lovino leaned over to look at Antonio's phone, "Call Feli, he'll be blocking my calls now. Maybe he can explain more. Because that is more than a little worrying."

Antonio nodded, flipping through his screen until he found Feliciano's number and hitting dial. It almost went to voicemail before Feliciano picked up, "Yes?"

"What's going on?" Antonio asked.

Feliciano sighed, the sound of a door closing coming down the line and the flute and piano music ended up quieter, "I don't really know. I know Ivan was angrier than anyone realized and it freaked Gilbert out. Ludwig called me to make sure you got home alright. So I came over—he's really stressed."

"Gilbert doesn't get freaked out," Antonio muttered. "Not usually."

"Well, from the sounds of it he moved during the meeting. Something about calming Ivan down before murder happened?"

"So that's what it was," Antonio murmured, hearing another discordant music note come through and blinking.

"The plan tonight I think is to get very drunk and Gilbert and Roderich are playing music as long as they can. It's...interesting," Feliciano said after a moment. "I'll be home tomorrow."

"I'll call Gilbert later then," Antonio said. "Have a good night."

"Good night," Feliciano hung up again.

Antonio stared at his phone a long moment. "Today," he said finally. "Has been an interesting day."

"That's one way of putting it," Lovino muttered. "Can we deal with the rest of it tomorrow?"

"Gilbert apparently thinks it’s safe to get drunk," Antonio said. "Which means I doubt anything more is going to happen tonight. God help us that Gilbert is our weather vane."

Lovino nodded his agreement, "Do you think he realizes that? Or that apparently he's the only one in the city who can translate Ivan well enough for us to depend on his reactions?"

"God help us," Antonio sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's go to bed and not think about it."

"I like the sound of that plan," Lovino agreed, twining a hand with Antonio's and starting for the Head's suite.

o-o-o

Gilbert woke up on the couch, curled around his flute and with his phone pressed between his chest and the cushion. For a moment he blinked blearily at the flute, feeling hollow and wrung out and sentimental in ways he usually never allowed himself. Pressing it to his forehead, he focused on breathing until it passed enough that he could sit up. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he carefully put the flute on the side table and checked the time on his phone before looking around. 

Somewhere beyond the pile of beer and vodka and wine bottles, Ludwig and Feliciano had passed out in a pile in the corner. Feliciano had his head on Ludwig's chest and Ludwig was holding him, though he would wake up with his back killing him for sleeping on the hard floor.   
Roderich had fallen asleep on his piano, and Gilbert blinked bleary eyes at him, trying to decide if he wanted to be around for when Roderich woke up or not. Gilbert had a vague memory of Feliks being the only one steady enough on his feet with that much alcohol to maneuver both himself and Toris out of the room, and Toris making some declaration of love he never would any time else at that.

Feliciano stirred, opening one eye halfway and making a quiet noise when he saw Gilbert was up before he closed his eyes and curled closer to Ludwig. 

The door of the room opened and Vash stuck his head in, arching an eyebrow and considering whether it was worth his life to wake up anyone who wasn't already up in there.

Gilbert turned his head and blinked a few times enough to focus on him. "Anything go wrong while we were out?" he rasped.

Vash shook his head, "Not so far." He came in and set a bottle of pain pills down on the piano near Roderich, keeping the glass of water he'd brought in hand.

"I see you playing favorites there," Gilbert said.

"They're for all of you, you ass," Vash muttered.

"Which is why they're closest to the sleeping dude you like the most," Gilbert said and Ludwig snapped awake, dislodging Feliciano before he processed where he was, why someone was sleeping on him, and why his head and back hurt.

Feliciano made a noise of protest, sitting up enough to catch his head in his hands. Vash rolled his eyes, even as Roderich started to stir.

"You're the one who decided to walk in here," Gilbert said, hesitating before picking his flute back up and rising to get the pain pills.

Roderich sat up, swearing quietly as his back and shoulders protested. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes as he took stock, freezing as he realized that he'd fallen asleep over his piano.

"Just keep breathing," Gilbert advised, downing several pills without any water.

"God _damn_ it, why did you let me do that?" Roderich grit out, batting Vash's hand away until he realized that the other was offering him pain killers and a glass of water. He took them, offering Vash a sideways glance.

"I didn't know you all had gotten plastered until I saw Lili this morning."

"Our music making was apparently too subdued," Gilbert said, taking the pills and meandering over to where Ludwig was trying to hug Feliciano and clutch his head at the same time.

"Oh, no I heard that, I just tuned it out," Vash said, offering a smile that wasn't even trying to be nice, "I couldn't tell the difference from what you normally sound like."

Roderich offered him a dark look, "The only reason I'm not throwing you out of the room for that is because it requires movement and you came bearing pain pills."

Gilbert tried not to laugh. "Here," he said, shaking the bottle in front of Ludwig. 

"Thank you," Ludwig said. "Except fuck you too."

"It was your idea to drink that much."

"How are you still standing?" Ludwig whined.

"Because he's him," Feliciano mumbled, sounding far less cheery than usual.

"I suppose that does explain it," Ludwig allowed and Gilbert moved back, still holding his flute in one hand. 

"Alright, I should head out," he said, checking the time on his phone again with the other. Ludwig blinked bleary eyes at him. 

"To Ivan? In that state?"

"I'll shower first," Gilbert muttered.

"How are you even standing?" Roderich asked, not having moved more than to close the lid of the piano and turn around on the bench.

"It's my secret super power," Gilbert said. "Which Feliks technically beats me on. Whatever. I'm better at hangovers."

"I think I hate you," Roderich said, still rubbing his temples as he waited for the pain killers to kick in enough so he could stand up.

Gilbert laughed, realized what he had done, and snapped his mouth shut. "Ow," he muttered. "Alright. I'm gonna go deal with Ivan."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ludwig asked, leaning his head back and wincing. "With the hangover and all."

"After yesterday?" Gilbert said. "Yeah, I promised. The earlier the better I guess."

"You should probably put your flute away first," Ludwig said after a beat, almost a blessing on him leaving.

Gilbert looked down and where he had forgotten he was holding it. "Right."

"You would have walked out still holding that, wouldn't you?" Roderich said, finally sitting up a bit straighter.

"At this point? Fuck knows," Gilbert admitted, swaying over to the case and carefully taking the flute apart and reverently putting it away.

Roderich pushed himself carefully to his feet, one hand resting on the lid of his piano for support, "Good luck today, Gilbert."

"It's gonna be fine," Gilbert declared.

"Of course it is," Feliciano stated from where he was curled up next to Ludwig still. "I hope Ivan's doing well today."

Gilbert stopped for a long second, staring at the wall. "Sure," he said after a beat. "I'm sure he's fine." 

o-o-o

When Gilbert knocked on the door to the Russian House, he stepped back and looked upward along the façade. Very few lights were on but he thought he could see a vodka bottle in the window of Ivan's office. "Fine," he muttered to himself again, having driven very slowly on the way over, his head still pounding. But he had a high tolerance for pain and was used to working through hangovers.

Eduard opened the door, looking like he'd slept very little the previous night, "Oh thank all that is holy."

"That's not inspiring," Gilbert deadpanned back.

"Just get in here, I'll show you up," Eduard said, stepping back to let Gilbert in.

Gilbert hesitated on the doorstep for a moment before sucking in a deep breath and stepping across. "So it's been that bad huh?"

Eduard considered how to answer that as he closed the door, "It's not as bad as it could be. But it would have been easier if you had been here."

Gilbert opened his mouth, worked his jaw, and shut it on what he originally wanted to say. "Yeah, well, I had my own panic to deal with."

"How bad was the meeting actually?" Eduard asked as they started up the stairs.

"I think it started when he met Alfred Jones, and went worse from there," Gilbert said. "You know the eyes closed, high pitched smile?"

"You mean the one that means stay the hell out of his way?"

"That was the first five minutes," Gilbert said.

Eduard swallowed hard at that, "No one died, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Gilbert said, as they walked up the stairs. "I was making plans to convince him not to touch Lili or Ludwig when he lost it though."

"Christ. Well, he came home and closed himself away at least," Eduard murmured.

Gilbert paused. "I'm glad," he said finally.

Eduard nodded slightly, not speaking further about that. "Does," he paused, "Did you tell Toris what happened?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said.

"Let him know everything's alright over here when you go back would you? At least with Raivis and I," Eduard paused as they finally reached Ivan's office.

"Sure," Gilbert said. "I mean, I will. If there's every anything else—well, who knows, they might get to get out of the house soon anyway."

Eduard dipped his chin in almost a nod before pointing to the door, "He's been in there all night."

"I guess I can't talk," Gilbert said, eying the door. "I was in the music room all night." He didn't quite want to walk through the door yet.

Eduard shook his head at that, pausing for a long moment before tapping very lightly on the door. There was a muffled sound of movement. "What?" Ivan asked, not very loud through the door. 

"Alright, fine then," Gilbert said, pushing the door open and stepping in. He stopped dead, seeing the several vodka bottles discarded around the room and the wilted sunflowers, Ivan's head snapping up and he looked shocked.

"Eh?" he asked, eyes huge.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Gilbert said, sweeping into the room. "Did I not promise I was coming today?" Eduard hesitated near the doorway, ready to retreat but not quite sure it was wise yet.

"But," Ivan started. 

"I said I was coming today," Gilbert said, picking his way across the room. "You are like a fucking child. You didn't expect me at all, did you?"

"Well," Ivan started again. 

"How many times am I gonna have to prove I'm coming back until you believe me?" Gilbert demanded, finally stopping in front of him and folding his arms over his chest.

Eduard's eyes widened and he decided that retreat was his best option at that point, rocking back on his heels but still staying out of habit to wait for an actual dismissal or the chance to tidy up the office.

Ivan stared up at Gilbert, slack jawed for a moment. "A couple more," he decided finally. 

"How many bottles of vodka did you have by yourself?" Gilbert asked, looking around. Ivan shrugged, and Gilbert ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, whatever, we're going to bed."

"There's work," Ivan started.

"Are you in a state to do it?" Gilbert asked. "Come on, it's hangover day. That means staying in bed and I don't know, cuddling or something."

"Cuddling," Ivan repeated and slowly started to smile.

"Yeah," Gilbert said, dragging him up. "Everyone is probably sleeping off their hangovers too, and no Head is going to be active today after last night. So we can just take... the day or something. Come on."

Biting back the sound and words that sprang to his throat at Gilbert's insistence, Eduard shook his head finally understanding exactly what Toris had meant when he insisted that Gilbert was either the stupidest or craziest man he'd ever met.

"Come on," Gilbert said, pulling at Ivan again, who was still staring at him like he couldn't figure him out. "Hey, Eduard?"

Eduard startled slightly at that, "Yes?"

"You can make sure food makes its way upstairs, right?" Gilbert asked, already shoving Ivan toward the door.

Eduard nodded, "Yes."

"Thanks," Gilbert said, one of his hands twisting around Ivan's scarf and before he could shove Ivan all the way through the door, Ivan turned around and dragged Gilbert against his chest, kissing him hard enough to bow Gilbert's back over.

There was a very quiet sound in the hall, Eduard recognizing Natalia's voice and glad he was just inside the office.

Natalia stood a few doors down, blinking toward Ivan and Gilbert, "Brother?"

Gilbert jerked back, Ivan not letting go as he turned to look over at Natalia. "Yes?" 

Gilbert had a hand over his mouth, trying to breathe and not blush. "You have no conceptualization of having an audience do you?" he muttered.

She blinked twice, tilting her head to one side and then shrugged, "Nothing. Never mind."

Ivan turned back to Gilbert. "Why is it a thing that bothers you?"

"Because it's a thing that bothers a lot of people, okay? Or at least some people." His mouth was still red though and he had lost the battle against blushing with Natalia still staring at them. "It's not a bad thing. It just, uh, surprises me."

"You should get over that," Natalia said from where she hadn't moved.

Gilbert stared at her open mouthed for a moment, still in the circle of Ivan's arms. "Really?" he asked and then laughed, almost instantly wincing. "Ow, my head. Why do I keep doing that?"

Natalia offered him a sharp smile and a firm nod, "Really." With that she turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

Ivan looked back at him. "Why does it make you uncomfortable?" 

"It just does," Gilbert muttered, and Ivan leaned down, kissing him softly on his open mouth before drawing back. 

Gilbert tried to breathe through his nose, his fingers tight on Ivan's shoulder. "Okay," he said finally. "Bed. I want to lie down somewhere it's dark, like, right now."

"Alright," Ivan said and Gilbert suspected no matter what he'd said at that moment Ivan would have agreed with him. Instead, he leaned up on his toes for another quick kiss and let Ivan lead the way down the hall.

o-o-o

Arthur didn't look up from the calculations he was doing at a tap on the door of his office, "Enter." Sparing barely a glance for his nephew he made a couple of notes on where their income might take a downturn in the wake of the meeting, "What is it, Matthew?"

"There's someone downstairs to see you."

Capping his pen, Arthur set it down, "You could have shown them up."

"Yeah, about that. She got waylaid by Cameron. There's, um, apparently a problem there?" Matthew frowned at not knowing the story behind it.

"She?" Arthur pushed himself to his feet, snatching up his cane and heading for the door and not waiting for an answer from Matthew as he headed to the landing where he could see the foyer. He reached the top of the stairs, pausing to take in the scene below.

Kate stood near the door, her light hair curled around her ears, facing down Cameron whose temper was clearly arcing up toward quite the fit. "I didn't come here to talk to you. I came to speak with the Head of the House."

"You said that before, and if you think I'm going to let you go up there like that, you've another think comin', Samuel."

"Kate," she snapped, looking caught between the urge to rise to Cameron's words and retreating permanently.

"That is not the—"

"Cameron," Arthur's voice cut firmly across the foyer. "Enough. Kate, it's good to see you again. Come up and we'll speak in my office."

Kate eyed him warily but nodded, striding past Cameron and up the stairs, "Thank you for seeing me."

"I'm glad you came," Arthur said, pushing open the door to his office and motioning to the chair in front of his desk. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Hesitating before taking a seat, Kate drew a deep breath before speaking, "I'm trusting that Liam's right about you and our cousins. I've come to ask for a position in the House. It's not secure to be without the protection of a House, especially considering how much I resemble you all."

Arthur blinked twice at her, falling silent for a long moment, "You realize that this is probably not a wise time to be joining our House, yes?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But people are likely to expect that I am part of this House regardless. It would be better to have the protection than to go without it."

Crossing his arms and tapping his right fingers against his left bicep, Arthur considered before nodding, "That's true enough. What skills do you bring with you, as I assume you've little in the way of weapons training?"

Kate's mouth twisted slightly at that, "I have basic first aid skills. And I'm good with numbers. I was preparing for an accounting degree at one point."

Arthur hummed in response to that, "You of course have the protection of this House, and a place here if you wish it."

"I won't be indebted," Kate said firmly, starting to get to her feet and Arthur waved a hand.

"No, no debt. If you can prove yourself for the accounting position, we've got one. You'll be paid and room and board deducted from your income. The same deal as goes for any member of the House who lives under this roof. Adequate?"

Kate hesitated and then nodded, "How can I prove myself to you for this position."

Arthur circled the desk and rifled through the papers for some sheets he had already gone over, holding the unmarked copies out to her, "Balance these, let me know of any discrepancies, and do so by, oh let's say tomorrow at seven in the evening? That should give me a decent idea."

She raised an eyebrow but took the papers from him, "I'll have these back to you then."

"If you like, there's an unoccupied room just down the hall from Liam," Arthur said, sounding almost off-handed as he looked back to his work.

Kate rose, watching him carefully, "And where is it in relation to Cameron?"

"Across the house," Arthur said, his lips twitching ever so slightly.

"Then, if it's not too much trouble, I'll accept that for tonight."

"Wonderful," Arthur smiled, pulling out his phone and texting Liam to come up to the office. "I think this could be very good, Kate. And if those," he nodded to the papers she held, "don't work, we'll find something else."

o-o-o

Alfred lay draped over the couch, one of his feet on the floor and his knee bouncing. "Say, Francis," he said, staring at the ceiling. 

"What?" Francis asked, looking up from eating his sandwich.

"You know Gilbert, right?"

Matthew glanced up from where he was scribbling in his notebook with his earbuds in but no music playing, "No, Al, I'm sure he's never heard of him."

Alfred pulled a face at him. "Whatever, Matthew."

"Yes," Francis said after a beat, carefully putting down his sandwich. "I know Gilbert quite well. Why?"

"Him and Ivan," Alfred said and stopped, chewing his lip and staring at the ceiling.

Matthew pulled his earbuds out, wrapping the headphone cord around his mp3 player, curious about what his brother was asking and not even pretending not to listen in any longer.

"What about them?" Francis prompted after a moment.

"Well, it just seems like they're really... y'know, into each other," Alfred said. "I didn't think they would be."

"You didn't?" Francis asked, his brow inching higher, though he had not seen Ivan and Gilbert interact yet. He had, however, seen Gilbert talk about Ivan.

"Doesn't seem like the best foundation for a relationship," Matthew said quietly, his eyes on his journal again.

"No," Francis allowed. "I'm pretty sure it's a shit foundation for a relationship. But," he shrugged. "They are both, from what I can tell, very unique people who apparently are quite made for each other."

"It just seemed so, so mercenary," Alfred said, "falling in love to keep your House safe. But that's not how they act at all."

"You think they actually care about each other? I mean like really care," Matthew asked, looking more toward Alfred than Francis.

"Yeah," Francis said. "Gilbert really cares about him, or he wouldn't be with him. Suicide or not, that's Gilbert. He's brash and an idiot and will talk himself off a cliff, but he's loyal and... is strangely the best listener I've ever met. He wouldn't be with Ivan without there being something."

Matthew blinked a couple of times at that, "Somehow that wasn’t the answer I was expecting."

"Yeah?" Francis huffed. "What was?"

"I don't know. Just, not that," Matthew shrugged.

Francis' mouth twisted. "That they might be in love or that Gilbert isn't just a mouth with a gun?"

"The first, mostly. I mean, the second one maybe, but I would hope I'd figured out by now that not everyone's what they look like at first glance," Matthew closed his journal, keeping the page he was working on marked with his finger.

"Ah, Mattie, that at least means you're already smarter than half the people in the world," Francis said, Alfred still staring at the ceiling.

Matthew shrugged again, looking toward Alfred but not asking what had brought the question on as he had his suspicions and it was better not to air them in front of Francis.

"Do you know why?" Alfred asked, suddenly.

"Why what?" Francis asked, having started to pick up his sandwich again. 

"Why they're in love?" Alfred said. "Seems fucked up is all."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Francis shrugged, and Alfred turned his head to stare at him, something too open and vulnerable in his face. Francis stopped dead.

Matthew turned his head to look at Francis, falling very still at those words before he recovered himself and turned his attention back to his journal again, glad it wasn't the one missing a page in the middle.

"Right," Alfred said, snapping his eyes back to the ceiling. "Even if the heart wants a creepy asshole with a pipe."

"Sure," Francis said, putting his elbows on the table and letting his eyes slide over to Matthew.

Matthew felt Francis' eyes on him and he looked up after a moment, raising his eyebrows, "Yes?"

"So both of you have some hidden affair of the heart then, hm?" Francis said and Alfred fell off the couch.

Matthew blinked once, his tone completely flat, "What."

"I suppose you don't have to tell me," Francis said, holding his hands up. "But it's fairly obvious to one knowledgeable in the ways of the heart."

"You're knowledgeable of the ways of the bed, not the heart," Alfred snapped, trying to pick himself back up.

"Al," Matthew sighed, shaking his head very slightly. "And, Francis, if that was what's going on here, don't you think telling you would defeat the whole 'hidden affairs of the heart' thing?"

"Every affair needs someone to hear about it," Francis grinned. "Besides, did I ask you to tell me?"

"No. Which is good, since I'd hate to disappoint you with the fact that there's nothing going on," Matthew said calmly.

"Oh, no, mon cher," Francis said. " _Something_ is going on."

"You're crazy," Alfred muttered.

"And you're that certain that you're not wrong?" Matthew's brows rose slightly.

"In matters such as this? Yes," Francis nodded firmly.

Matthew hummed slightly, "So what's your excuse for how long it took you to understand Arthur?"

Francis laughed. "Ah yes, clever. Arthur is a sight more subtle then either of you can hope to be, for one."

"Arthur has wanted to sleep with you for the last three years, _at least_ ," Matthew said.

"And did I say I knew who you wanted to sleep with?" Francis asked. "No, simply that something is going on." He paused, looking between them for a moment as if a thought had occurred to him before he shook his head as if to dismiss it.

Matthew caught the glance and looked back to his journal, jotting down a couple of sentences, "That was a meaningful look."

"Hm," Francis hummed and then laughed it off.

Matthew's fingers tensed on his pen, but he didn't say anything. There was movement in the doorway and he looked up again, Kate pausing when he did so. She had already started backing up, "Sorry, I think I got turned around, I was looking for an empty room to work in."

"You can work here," Francis said, Alfred turning to eye her in curiosity.

She glanced uncertainly at Matthew and Alfred, before coming further in and sitting down. Matthew's eyebrows rose as he took in her features, eyes like Cameron's, a nose like Liam's and eyebrows that resembled Arthur's though a bit less thick.

"You wouldn't happen to be Liam's mystery, would you?" Alfred asked, having no space or desire to beat around the bush.

"Sister," Kate said with a small nod.

"Well fuck," Alfred said after a beat.

Kate blinked at him a couple of times, "You're Alfred, aren't you?"

Alfred blinked once. "Ah, my reputation has preceded me."

"Which makes you Matthew," she pointed toward Matthew who blinked twice.

"Do I _want_ to know what Liam's told you?"

"Probably not."

"I am either going to pay you to tell me, or beat it out of him," Alfred decided after a beat.

"Oh, I will gladly give it up for money," she answered blithely. "But it won't come cheap."

"Cheap," Alfred said, grinning. "Is not my problem."

"Then we shall arrange a time for exchange of money and information. After I finish these calculations for Arthur," she agreed, actually starting to relax.

"Calculations for Arthur?" Alfred said, his brows going up and he leaned forward, intent. Francis glanced over and went back to his sandwich.

Kate leaned back almost instinctively, "I asked him for a position. He gave me some numbers to go over and get back to him."

"Really?" Alfred laughed, open. "That's cool and unusual."

"Is it?" She asked.

Matthew nodded, "Arthur is usually....reticent about taking people he doesn't really know into the House. And to hand you numbers? Definitely unusual."

"Congratulations," Alfred drawled.

"Oh," she looked at the papers in her hands, the notations and calculations already marked on them. "Thanks? I think?"

"That's a thanks," Alfred said.

"So, are you staying here, or?" Matthew let the question trail.

"I'm pretty sure I'm staying?"

"Oh good," Alfred said, "More time to get to know each other."

o-o-o

Francis leaned against the doorframe, knocking on Arthur's office door with the back of his hand, pretending to read the newspaper he was holding.

Arthur glanced up from his work, "Something interesting in the paper, Francis?"

"Not terribly," Francis said, looking up after a moment. "Are you busy?"

"No more than usual," Arthur said, waving him in. "Close the door behind you."

Francis kicked it shut as he stepped in, folding the newspaper. "Any news, oh noble leader of this House?"

"Nothing new. Somehow I expected more reaction following the city-wide meeting, but everything seems to be in another holding pattern," Arthur shook his head. "What about you, oh head of my intelligence branch? Any news?"

Francis paused. "Yes and no. The Nordics have been moving around an awful lot for such a small, neutral house. The Russians and Asians currently aren't talking, and how, exactly, close are your nephews?"

Arthur made a couple of notes on the first part of what Francis said before looking up again, "As close as they ever were to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

Francis flicked the edge of the paper and shrugged. "Simply... curious."

Arthur offered him an unimpressed look, "Pull the other one, it has bells."

Francis snorted. "Not bells. I'm not a court fool. They simply seem... very close."

Arthur leaned back as he finally processed what Francis was asking, "I would hope that they both have at least slightly more sense than that. Or taste at least."

Francis laughed. "Taste? Both of them?" He paused. "I suppose that is equally insulting to both of them."

Arthur's lips twitched at that, "It is rather. Though you mentioning them reminds me of what I meant to ask after the meeting."

Francis sat on the edge of the desk, tapping the newspaper on his knee. "Except, with Alfred, who else would he attach his emotions to except someone he already trusts and knows perhaps too well?" He finally focused on Arthur. "Yes, the meeting, what was it?"

"I think I've made a mistake," Arthur admitted after a moment. "Having Alfred meet with the heir of the Asian House."

Francis paused, looking over. "Why?"

"Because he reacts to him differently," Arthur said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Both softer and more injured all at once."

Francis blinked. "That," he shook his head. "Which theory is the right one, hm? Alfred is certainly concerned with some matter of the heart. He fell off the couch."

Arthur frowned slightly at that, "What made you think it had something to do with Matthew?"

"He kept looking at Alfred," Francis said. "And had his own reactions to the idea of matters of the heart. Too much careful denial only means he's trying to hide something."

"Well, the question there becomes if it's Alfred's secret he's hiding, or his own," Arthur mused. "Setting that aside, Alfred won't respond well to direct confrontation, and I haven't any evidence of what's going on there yet."

"Will you ever?" Francis asked.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "Possibly, Alfred's slipped up a couple of times, but not really enough to be something he couldn't brush off."

"Are you going to push him into slipping up more?"

"I'm not sure yet," Arthur said, glancing at Francis. "If my suspicions are right it would be better to know."

"Better to know if we're dealing with Romeo and Juliet?" Francis huffed.

Arthur nodded, "Exactly." 

"Two Houses," Francis shook his head.

"Tale of woe and tragedy. I would rather not be caught in the midst of that," Arthur grimaced, pushing himself to his feet.

"I think we have our own tragedies to deal with," Francis said, still tapping the newspaper against his leg, looking at Arthur over his shoulder.

Arthur circled the desk to lean against it next to Francis, "It would be better to know this before Yao puts things together, if it's true, though."

"You're both too old and suspicious for your own good, "Francis said, tilting his head into Arthur's space.

"I'll thank you not to make that comparison, true though it might be," Arthur said, stiffly.

"Sorry," Francis said, not sounding very sorry. "But in that regard you're alike enough to destroy the city."

"Let's hope it doesn't spread that far," Arthur murmured. "We need to know about Alfred though. Or rather I do."

"Yes," Francis said, "I suppose we do."

"I don't know what I'll do if I'm right about this," Arthur sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking toward the door.

“I never much liked Romeo and Juliet," Francis said after a beat.

"Everybody dies and those that don't aren't happy," Arthur said with a small shake of his head. "It's an examination of youthful passions and stupidity taken to extremes in a place of violence."

"Hm," Francis hummed. "No, it's because it's not really a love story," he leaned his head in. "And I much prefer those."

Arthur offered him a side-long glance, "Didn't I basically just say that?"

"No, mon chéri, you said you did not like it because it was stupid and they were stupid," Francis said. "I said I did not like it because it was not a romance."

Arthur rolled his eyes, lips twitching upward ever so slightly, "Right, my mistake."

"Yes," Francis said. "And what a horrible mistake it was."

"Not one of the Bard's better works, regardless of why," Arthur drawled, finally pushing off of the desk. "I'm going to be unable to focus on anything in here any longer."

"How horrible for you," Francis remarked.

Arthur turned to face Francis, tilting his head back ever so slightly, "But perhaps not for you."

"Yes, how horrible for me," Francis drawled.

"Clearly," Arthur said, looking vaguely amused before he turned and started for the door. "You coming?"

"No, I thought I'd poke around in your office for a few hours, waste my time instead," Francis said, still at the desk.

"Well, of course, if you find that more....fulfilling," Arthur drawled, glancing over his shoulder when he reached the door.

"Alfred seems to like Kate," Francis said.

Arthur turned around at that, leaning against the door, "Good."

"Matthew too, but he's less, uh, open about his emotions," Francis shrugged.

"That's very good to hear. She asked for a place here, but it will go better if she has more people here who like her," Arthur said, watching Francis.

"You mean so you don't have to worry about her so much that way."

"It's going to be a hard enough transition with Cameron living here as well," Arthur said quietly. "Much less _when_ this is happening."

Francis felt his mouth twitch up and he shook his head slightly. "I think they would rather punch Cameron then allow him to annoy her much. Ever notice you raised a very protective younger generation?"

"I'm still not entirely sure how," Arthur said, lips twitching upward. "I'm pretty sure they came to me like that."

"All three of them?"

"Alfred," Arthur said, pausing to consider about the other two. "Matthew to some extent but only toward his brother. Liam, well, I'm not sure I can say I've had much of a hand with him. The lad still seems afraid of setting a toe out of line."

"They're going to protect each other's secrets to the death," Francis said after a beat.

"Which I would say is a good thing if not for my fears about what Alfred's secrets _are_ ," Arthur murmured.

Francis' mouth twitched. "Perhaps it's not that bad."

Arthur looked at him sideways, "Not that bad?"

"I said perhaps," Francis said.

"And how might it not be?"

"Not all secrets are dangerous," Francis said. "Not all dalliances or affairs are harmful."

"And if this one turns out to be with Kiku Honda?" Arthur crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then it's dangerous and harmful," Francis said. "It might not be. Don't jump to conclusions yet."

Arthur rubbed a hand over his right ear and jawline, "We need to _know_ , Francis. It's too precarious for us not to."

"I'll see what I can find," Francis said after a beat.

Arthur paused for a long moment before nodding, "Thank you."

"Yes, yes," Francis said, not quite dismissing the thanks.

"I can't deal with anything more tonight," Arthur sighed, looking at the folder still on his desk behind Francis.

"Then don't," Francis said, still holding himself carefully.

Arthur looked Francis over for a long moment before leaning in close to reach past him for the folder, folding it shut as he picked it up, "Is there something else?"

Francis looked for a moment exhausted by the game before he smiled again. "Well, I think it is high time for you to relax."

Arthur nodded his agreement, locking the file away and starting for the door, "You coming?"

"Yes," Francis said softly, following.

Arthur paused at the door, turning to face Francis. Reaching up he cupped the other man's face, fingers brushing his ear, "What's wrong, Francis?"

"Nothing," Francis said, trailing his fingers over Arthur's hand and down his wrist. "I am tired is all."

"Are you lying to me?" Arthur asked quietly, sounding tired more than anything in that moment.

"What use of lies would I have for you?" Francis asked.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know. We both could use some rest."

"Then let us rest," Francis said and this smile did not look forced. Arthur paused for another moment, leaning up to kiss Francis before drawing back and stepping out of the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, we always love to hear from you and hear what your theories are as to where the fic is going!


	41. Pretty Terrifying In My Own Right

Stefan kicked back in his chair, the two front legs rising off the ground, taking a long drink of his coffee as he looked over the edge of it at Heracles, "Remind me why we came all the way out here for coffee again? There's some great places for that back in our territory."

"Because I got kicked out of the house and Sadiq is probably chain drinking coffee at the best one in our territory," Heracles said. "I suppose at least he doesn't smoke."

"Not sure caffeine's actually much better for his health," Stefan said. "Is he really still that mad about the fire? Or did you do something I haven't been a part of or heard about?"

"Both," Heracles said smoothly and pursed his lips. "Though the fire is probably still the biggest issue. We were the last ones to the meeting, and he got snide about it."

Stefan grimaced, "He does have that thing about punctuality."

"It's close to godliness or something," Heracles dismissed.

"Pretty sure that's cleanliness," Stefan said, letting his gaze drift around the outdoor cafe.

"To Sadiq it’s punctuality," Heracles said, sagging forward on his elbows, sprawling half over the table and propping his chin up with his palms.

"You'd think he'd get over that with a bunch of teenagers in his house. Is that the guard from the German House?" Stefan asked, a small frown settling between his brows as he caught sight of Gilbert.

"We're supposed to be on good relations with them," Heracles said automatically and then craned his neck around. "Yes it is. And the new heir."

"Well, yeah, but he's still batshit," Stefan muttered, taking another drink of his coffee and studying Lili quietly, his brows rising slightly when she spotted them and started in their direction.

"What?" Heracles asked, not wanting to turn around.

"What, what?" Stefan asked, pulling his gaze from Lili, "They're heading over here. You know either of them?"

"Met once or twice," Heracles said.

"Huh," Stefan said.

Lili hesitated a couple of steps away before steeling herself and finally coming up to the table, a cup of chocolate in her hand, "Hello."

"Hello," Heracles said, flicking up a lazy smile at her, not having entirely unfolded from his sprawl. Standing behind Lili and constantly looking around the room, Gilbert looked back enough to cock his eyebrows up.

Stefan blinked in Heracles' direction once before offering Lili a smile as well, "Would you like to join us?"

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded very slightly, "If we're not intruding."

"Nothing to intrude on," Heracles said, glancing at Stefan before he straightened and kicked the chair between them out. "Take a seat, if you'd like to."

Lili paused for another moment, sparing a glance for Gilbert and their surroundings before accepting the chair, pulling it out enough that she would be able to rise from it quickly, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Heracles said. "What brings you out here today?" 

Gilbert looked around the table before taking the seat across from Lili and between the two boys.

"Just some time out of the house," she answered. "And yourselves?"

"Coffee," Stefan said with a grin.

"And time out of the house," Heracles said, ticking a finger up.

Stefan nodded, "Yeah, that too."

"Mr. Adnan didn't look very happy when you got to the meeting the other day," Lili said quietly, taking a sip of her drink.

Stefan burst out laughing at that, "No shit?"

Heracles scowled at Stefan. "Shut up, you missed him being _snide_ with literally the whole fucking power structure it's not _funny_ , Stefan."

"You all walked out in one piece after he was snide and it took the edge off of how much trouble I got into for helping you with that disaster, so yeah I'm going to laugh," Stefan said with a grin.

Lili fell very still at that and looked across the table at Gilbert. Gilbert was looking between the two of them before focusing back on Lili, his pale eyebrows still up. 

"Right, less trouble and it was not my idea, genius."

"Well, in theory," Stefan started and then stopped, considering exactly how the flames had shot up from the experiment he'd dragged Heracles into helping him run in the kitchen. "No, actually that's exactly what I expected to have happen."

"What did happen?" Lili asked quietly.

"I'm going to assume something with fire?" Gilbert asked. 

Heracles just offered him a grin. "Erm. Yeah."

"We may have lit part of the kitchen on fire," Stefan admitted.

"Again," Heracles said. "There goes our ‘it was only one time’ angle."

"He's never going to let us cook unsupervised again," Stefan said, not sounding like he felt it was any great loss.

"Yeah, that sounds like a tragedy if you set things on fire," Gilbert said and Heracles turned his head to look at him for a moment too long.

"Twice." Stefan said, "We've only set things on fire twice. And neither time was because we were cooking."

"You still set the kitchen on fire?" Lili offered.

"For science," Heracles grinned. "Which Sadiq just does not appreciate in the same way."

"He frowns upon scorch marks on the wall almost as much as he frowns upon being late," Stefan said, shrugging unconcernedly.

"That must have killed him then," Gilbert said before he thought about it

"You'll notice we're having our coffee here instead of at any of the really nice places in our territory," Stefan pointed out, not reacting more than that.

"Which our territory is known for, unlike this place," Heracles said, tilting his cup forward. 

"Hey," Gilbert muttered. 

"You just don't know good coffee, it's okay," Heracles said.

"Is the coffee really that bad?" Lili asked.

"The company makes up for it," Stefan shrugged, earning a slight flush across Lili's cheekbones.

"The coffee is that bad," Heracles said after a beat.

"I've had worse," Stefan said, glancing toward Heracles again.

"But they don't have honey," Heracles said.

"Honey?" Lili asked.

"It's a whole thing. Honey in coffee. And if Sadiq's mostly asleep just honey without coffee," Stefan answered her.

Heracles tried to stifle a laugh, Gilbert's brows creeping up. "I might have heard that story," he said after a beat.

"I don't think I have," Lili said, watching Stefan.

"He offered it to your intelligence officer the night you," Stefan pointed at Gilbert, "got back from the Russian House."

"Yeah, I heard that story," Gilbert said, pushing his chair back on one leg and looking at the ceiling.

"It was memorable," Stefan said, grinning.

"I would imagine it was," Lili said. "So, honey in coffee is common in your House then?"

"Honey in everything," Heracles said. "Only Timur complains about it."

"Timur?"

"My little brother," Stefan answered. "He is very very odd sometimes."

Heracles snorted, and kept his mouth shut. 

"Ah, little brothers," Gilbert said, still staring at the ceiling.

Stefan let out a breath that could have been a quiet laugh, "He got the rabbits he wanted though."

Lili's eyebrows rose very slightly, "Rabbits?"

"The kid likes rabbits," Stefan shrugged. "I will say they're very cute and very soft."

"They don't purr," Heracles protested. "Cute and soft sure but what's really the point?"

"That's true." Stefan agreed, tipping his coffee cup toward Heracles, "there is a distinct lack of purring."

"So you both like cats?" Lili asked, glancing between them.

Stefan laughed, "Not sure I know anyone who likes them as much as Heracles, but I do like them a lot."

"I'm not that mad," Heracles protested. "At least not as mad as you make me sound when you say that."

Stefan grinned, "You have at least a half dozen cats."

"That's perfectly legitimate," Heracles said. "There's not really shelters in this town."

"Have you made that argument to Sadiq recently? About how you're turning the house into an animal shelter for stray cats?" Stefan asked.

"Not since I was five, have I used that excuse," Heracles said.

Lili hid a smile behind her cup, "Did it not work?"

"No," Heracles deadpanned. "However, the fact remains there is nowhere else for them to go." The corners of Gilbert's mouth kept twitching but he remained for the moment silent.

"You'd think Sadiq would be more amenable to the idea of taking in strays," Stefan said.

Lili glanced at him, "Even ones he's allergic to?"

"See, that's where the problem is," Heracles said, grinning at Stefan.

Stefan returned the grin, "Well, okay that's true. Still, you'd think the 'they don't have anywhere else' would hold more sway."

"Why do you think I have half a dozen cats?" Heracles asked.

"Okay, good point," Stefan allowed.

Lili glanced at the clock, pushing back her chair, "It, it was good to see you again. We really ought to be going."

"So soon?" Stefan asked, offering her a smile.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks at that, "Yes, I think so."

"You haven't even had coffee yet," Heracles said.

Gilbert however had become more alert. Lili held up her empty cup of chocolate, "I don't actually drink coffee, unlike most of the rest of my House."

"The point stands," Heracles said. "It hasn't been that long."

"We wouldn't want to overstay," Lili said, glancing toward Gilbert.

Stefan shook his head, "You don't need to worry about that, really."

Gilbert tilted his head a tiny nod to Lili they still had time if she wanted it, or he could make an excuse for them to leave.  Heracles was still smiling. "I'm not sure you could ever wear out your welcome anyway."

"What Heracles said," Stefan agreed.

Lili blushed again at that, "Thank you. We do have a little bit longer at least."

"Honestly though," Heracles said. "Have you ever worn out your welcome?"

Lili thought about that for a moment before shaking her head, "I don't think so."

"Then you shouldn't have to worry about it now," Heracles said. "Do you like cats?"

She nodded, "Yes, though we haven't ever really had any."

"You could probably ask to take one of his," Gilbert said. "If you wanted one. And he is willing to part with one."

"I..." Heracles blinked.

"I wouldn't want to part him from his cats," Lili said, quietly.

Stefan laughed, "You learn quick."

Heracles covered his laugh, and slid his eyes over to Gilbert. "Though, not to say the pleasure of your company wasn't enough, but I was curious."

"About what?" Gilbert asked, having noticed his eyes moving but still more or less looking at the ceiling. 

"Well, the meeting," Heracles said, as if he was casual and Gilbert clanked the ends of his chair back on the ground.

Lili watched Heracles carefully, glancing toward Gilbert and then back, "What about it?"

"Well," Heracles said. "The Russian House for instance."

"What about them?" Gilbert asked mildly.

"You moved to sit with them during the meeting," Stefan said, turning his coffee cup around once.

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "You want, what, an inside track?"

"I think everyone in this town wants one to some extent," Heracles said.

"But it's not," Lili paused, trying to figure out what she was saying and shook her head.

"Not what?" Heracles asked, tilting his head at her.

"That simple," she finally settled on.

"Well, no, but you both reacted when I said something about our delegation making it home in one piece. And like I said, you," Stefan pointed at Gilbert, "moved."

Gilbert shrugged. "Ivan was getting tense."

"He was smiling," Heracles said. 

"Yeah," Gilbert deadpanned.

"He smiles a lot," Lili pointed out.

"Doesn't mean he's happy," Gilbert said and Heracles blinked.

"Okay," he said, putting his elbows on the table. "How unhappy is unhappy?"

Lili looked at Gilbert, not certain how much they should say in that regard. Stefan caught the look at leaned back in his chair, "Or how dangerous is unhappy?"

"You've heard how he came to power right?" Gilbert asked.

Heracles opened his mouth, thought about it and snapped it shut.

Stefan paused at that, "Oh."

"So mad," Heracles said. 

Gilbert hummed.

"And you moved to....calm him down a little?" Stefan hazarded a guess.

Gilbert hummed again.

"So in other words, if you're holding hands smiling at each other or moving around, we should all be ready to take off for the airport or at least get out of the room at a moment's notice?" Heracles asked. 

"I'm sorry was I smiling during the meeting?"

"No," Lili said with a small shake of her head. "Not really."

"My point more or less stands," Heracles said.

"We are _not_ sappy enough to hold hands and smile," Gilbert snapped and Heracles stared at him before he tried to cover his giggle. " _What_?"

Stefan tried not to grin but completely failed, "Not sure that's what anyone would accuse you of."

"Ice cream," Lili murmured, glancing up at Gilbert briefly a hint of a smile on her lips.

"He was about ready to start murdering people," Gilbert muttered. "It seemed like a good idea at the time and lo and behold it _worked_ so _shut up_."

"It did work," Lili agreed. "But Heracles isn't wrong in the signs in that situation either. Though," she looked at Heracles briefly and then down at where she was turning her cup around between her hands, "that doesn't mean they'll be the same next time."

"I'm sorry," Heracles said. "You took him out to _ice cream_?"

"So?" Gilbert asked, defensive.

"It's strangely gentle considering who you two are," Stefan said.

Gilbert stared at him. "Gentle?" he repeated, sounding a little choked.

"You went out to ice cream with the most terrifying Head of House in the city," Stefan said. "Not sure what adjective I'd use there, but strangely gentle is at least a bit accurate."

"Gentle isn't—" Lili broke off and shook her head slightly.

"Isn't what?" Stefan asked.

"Accurate," she finally settled on.

"I'd like to think I'm pretty terrifying in my own right," Gilbert said after a beat, leveling Stefan with a look.

"In your own right, sure," Stefan said. "You're still not Ivan Braginski."

"No, but he's dating him," Lili pointed out quietly.

Gilbert looked for a second like he was torn between laughing and punching someone. "And isn't that terrifying?" he said. "After all, I can put up with him."

Stefan leaned back in his chair at that, "Okay, fair point."

Gilbert gave him a smile before turning back to Lili. "How're you liking your chocolate?"

She offered Gilbert a smile in response, and sparing a brief glance for the clock she could see, "It's good. Your coffee?"

"It's not very strong," Gilbert said and Heracles raised his brow, double checking his own cup before looking at Stefan as if to ask how strong the German liked his coffee.

Lili bit back a laugh at that, "Not thick enough to stand a spoon in it, no." Stefan blinked twice, returning Heracles' look with one of his own.

"Bah," Gilbert muttered, turning his cup around and looking at the two from the other House again. 

"So," Heracles said after a beat. "The city's still standing. That's impressive."

Lili nodded, opening her mouth to say something as Stefan's phone buzzed. She closed her mouth, glancing at him as he checked it and pocketed it again, "Something important?"

"Nothing that can't wait. Timur's on his usual vendetta against Heracles' calico cat, but Gupta was letting me know so the cat's fine."

"The calico never did a damned thing to that boy," Heracles snarled, checking his own phone and only scowling more at the fact he had gotten no messages.

"He's claiming it looked at his lop wrong today," Stefan said. "Gupta's got it in hand," he slid his phone and the accompanying photo of an unconcerned calico cat stretched on a windowsill well out of Timur's reach over to Heracles.

Heracles smiled and covered his laugh with one hand. "Alright, it looks covered."

"Oh good," Lili said with a quite smile as she rose to her feet. "It was good to see you, Heracles. And to meet you, Stefan. But we really do need to go now."

"Of course," Heracles said, head tilting back with a smile. "Thanks for stopping by."

Stefan offered her a grin and a nod, "Good to meet you too. Take care."

She ducked her head slightly, murmuring a quiet "good bye" as she and Gilbert left.

Heracles looked after them for a moment. "Well," he said. "That puts a different spin on things."

Stefan nodded, "I'll say. We'd better let Sadiq know."

"Which part?" Heracles said, already having a pretty solid guess.

"About Ivan," Stefan said, raising his eyebrows. "What else would you think?"

Heracles shrugged. "Probably just that," he said. "German politics are quite different, aren't they?"

Stefan nodded, "I'll say."

o-o-o

Heracles shoved the door open. "My cats had better all be alright!" he yelled, toeing his shoes off.

"Your stupid cat is fine," Timur called from one of the rooms down the hall.

"Good!" Heracles said. "Keeping in mind I'll need to check now—"

"The menace was in the upstairs window last I saw it," Timur said, finally sticking his head out of the doorway.

Stefan bit back a laugh, "Is Sadiq upstairs, Timur?"

He shrugged, "Probably."

"With the cat?" Heracles asked, sweeping past Timur like he might as well not be standing there. Timur rolled his eyes and ignored Heracles, disappearing back into the room without another word. Stefan shook his head, falling into step with Heracles.

"We know exactly what we're gonna say?" Heracles asked. "Or just by the way Ivan almost went ballistic?"

"I think we should lead with actually figuring out how much Sadiq knows," Stefan said. "Go from there?"

"Right," Heracles said, throwing the door open. "Sadiq," he called, assuming he would be in his study.

"What?" Sadiq asked, looking up because it was true.

Stefan stepped in a half pace behind Heracles, glancing at the other young man before turning his attention to their Head of House, "How much of a read do you have on Ivan?"

"As much as anyone in this city but I suspect you're about to blow my expectations away," Sadiq said, brows going up and his mask was by his elbow while he did business inside the house.

"How mad was he at the meeting?" Stefan asked, closing the study door most of the way.

"No more than usual," Sadiq said. "He looked a little tense around Jones, and with Yao and the betrayal thing but generally speaking he seemed—" he paused and thought about it. "Pissed as fuck actually."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt gave indication that he was pretty much ready to murder the room at large," Stefan said.

"Fuck," Sadiq said and focused on the less relevant for a second. "When did you talk to Gilbert?"

"When we went seeking coffee elsewhere," Stefan answered. "Lili and Gilbert were out and about."

"Right," Sadiq said and almost smiled for a second. "And he dropped, on purpose I suppose, that Ivan almost killed everyone?"

"Not in so many words. But he got the point across pretty well," Stefan said.

Sadiq drummed his fingers on the table, considering. "Hm."

Stefan glanced toward Heracles at that and then back to Sadiq, "So this makes Gilbert our weathervane for Ivan then?"

"If we can figure out how to understand Gilbert of course," Heracles said.

"Well, okay, yes, point. But the question still stands," Stefan said.

"Gilbert seems more attuned to him," Sadiq said. "Which means the German House is gonna react in certain ways to the Russians—probably without trying to draw attention to it."

"So we need to keep an eye on how the Germans react then." Stefan paused at that, "Can I for one say that using the Germans as a way to get a read on the Russians is actually sort of terrifying?"

"Well," Sadiq sighed. "That's one way of thinking of it."

"Good to know though."

"It's easier to figure out the Germans then the Russians. Speaking of which," Sadiq tapped his phone. "I think I'm going to call my in."

Stefan nodded slightly, heading for the door. Heracles hesitated a long moment before following when Sadiq leveled a long look at him.

Roderich cradled his phone against his shoulder as he made notes on a few reports, "Hello, Sadiq."

"Roderich," Sadiq greeted. "How's the German house?"

"Decent actually," Roderich said. "Considering the meeting and all. And your House?"

"Well, you know, frazzled. So. Ivan and Gilbert huh?"

"I thought we'd been over that?" Roderich said, setting his pen down in confusion.

"Not the part where Gilbert should be wearing a weather vane on his head."

Roderich blinked twice, "I...forgot to call and tell you about the meeting didn't I?"

"You did. Though it's cute to know you meant to."

"I did mean to," Roderich agreed. "How did you happen to find out?"

"The kids ran into Gilbert and Lili and my assumption is the little shit teased Gilbert about moving to hold hands with his boyfriend."

"I see. Yes, it...I'm glad the meeting went as well as it did, based on what Gilbert said that night."

"Which was what, exactly?"

"He was calculating ways to convince Ivan not to kill Ludwig and Lili." He paused, "I've rarely seen him that shaken."

"He seems pretty protective," Sadiq said mildly enough it was obviously a sarcastic understatement. "I mean, it's not like he's ever cared about Ludwig before."

"Yes, usually it doesn't lead to hangovers for most of the next day though," Roderich said.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Please tell me I get to hear more about that."

"We got blindingly drunk and played music until some ungodly hour of the morning," Roderich admitted after a moment, shuffling a couple of papers around. "We haven't done that for a while."

"You... drunk jammed?" Sadiq asked when he got his breath back.

Roderich ducked his head, "Yes, that's what we've called it."

Sadiq burst out laughing, and it was clear he was holding the phone away from his mouth to try and muffle the sound.

"Yes, it's hilarious," Roderich drawled.

"It is," Sadiq insisted, and he still sounded muffled. "Oh jesus, and you play the violin don't you? Does Gilbert do the flute?"

"Piano on nights like this, the violin does not show up for these," Roderich said. "And yes he plays the flute."

"Classical music drunk jamming," Sadiq chortled. "Oh god, invite me to the next one."

Roderich laughed quietly at that, "If I remember I'll do so. They're rather...unplanned."

"Good," Sadiq said. "Because holy shit that sounds hilarious."

"Of course part of the requirement is you getting just as drunk," Roderich said, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Oh well, I just can't allow something like that," Sadiq said in mock seriousness.

"But truly, you're all alright?"

"Yeah," Sadiq said. "We were unaware but nothing went too wrong on our end. We managed to not even really piss anyone off. Except Yao but that was the story of the meeting." He paused and there was a rustling sound on the other end of the line. "Not sure if that's going to be a problem or not yet."

"You've neutrality pacts with both Houses involved, correct?" Roderich asked.

"Yeah," Sadiq said.

"Pity one can't expect reasonable reactions to that," Roderich murmured after a moment's consideration.

"Reasonable went out the window the minute Jones opened his mouth, I think," Sadiq said. "I missed the initial fireworks but..."

"Jones seems to have that effect on people."

Sadiq snorted. "I can't imagine where he got it from. I mean, the pissing people off bit. His brand seems pretty patented to himself."

"Couldn't possibly imagine," Roderich drawled. "At least he's direct about it."

"Instead of being a sneaky backstabbing bastard?" Sadiq asked and stopped. "Hm."

Roderich fell silent for a long moment, reminding himself not to say what immediately came to mind, "Yes, well."

"Yes, well," Sadiq repeated. "How diplomatic."

"Would you prefer I point out how bitter you sound about him?" Roderich asked, wincing as soon as he'd said it.

"At least it would be honest," Sadiq said. "Besides, sometimes a reminder to control myself isn't so amiss."

Roderich sighed softly, "I'll keep it in mind. Do you think you'll be able to get away for dinner this week sometime?"

"We can certainly try as long as there are no more Russian related panics."

"Wonderful."

Sadiq snorted inelegantly on the other end of the line. "Right."

"It's good to hear from you," Roderich said.

"Maybe next time let's not make it about something so horrible," Sadiq said.

"Agreed, it would probably be fine to actually make social calls from time to time," Roderich smiled slightly.

"Which is a concept we'll both need to work on it sounds like," Sadiq said, amusement seeping into his voice.

"Apparently," Roderich sorted a couple of papers into his files and gathered the ones he needed for meeting with Ludwig.

"You're already working again, aren't you? What did we just say? What about lame flirting over the phone?"

Roderich ducked his head, coughing to hide a faint laugh, "That is something I've never been all that good at."

"I can imagine."

"And here I thought I'd done such a good job of disguising that."

Sadiq laughed. "No honey, sorry."

Roderich couldn't help a fond smile at that, "Well, I guess that means that secret's out then."

"You'll probably have to kill me now that I know."

"Oh, that seems a bit drastic. Perhaps I can find a way to convince you not to tell."

"You might," Sadiq drawled. "There could be a few things you have in your repertoire of persuasion that could work on me."

"Only a few?" Roderich asked.

"Like, one or two I think."

"I'm not sure that even reaches 'few' there. I would hope there were at least three."

"No. See, because my methods are pretty good. Why have more then you need if they're gonna be so great?"

"You seem pretty confident in your abilities there," Roderich said.

"Oh," Sadiq practically purred. "I am."

Roderich swallowed at that, "Well, that's promising."

"Could come over sometime and see if you agree."

"You mean that?" Roderich asked, almost cautious.

"Depending on circumstance and how things go because shit can always come up at the most annoying times—yeah."

"I'll have to take you up on that," Roderich said, his tone gentling.

"After all of that I would damn well hope so."

"Soon, even."

"Good," Sadiq said. "I should let you get back to whatever important meeting you have."

"I would say it can wait, but it's Ludwig, so I should probably go," Roderich agreed. "Take care, Sadiq."

"You too," Sadiq said. "Try to... I don't know. Are there any dangers in meeting with Ludwig?"

"No, not really. Especially with Gilbert home."

"Good. Then keep up that clean track record, Roderich."

"I will. I'll talk with you later."

"Bye, honey."

Roderich hung up, smiling. He was still smiling quietly by the time he reached Ludwig's office some ten minutes later.

o-o-o

Alfred sat in the living room, idly flipping his phone up and catching it. It was on silent and had been since the meeting but he couldn't stop staring at the screen, like some message was going to come magically though. Cameron and Francis at different points had commented on it, and Matthew had eyed him.

The screen lit up just as the phone was coming down again, the number of Kiku's last burner over the message preview that simply read "I'm ready to talk."

Alfred almost dropped the phone, juggling it awkwardly for a few seconds before he had it solidly in his hands again. It was clear his entire posture changed all at once, from relaxed and annoyed to tense.

A second message lit up the screen moments later "We could meet?"

"Okay," he sent back, carefully keeping his fingers from shaking and idly slipping the phone into his pocket and standing.

Matthew glanced up from his laptop, his gaze darting toward where Alfred had put the phone—out of his sight for the first time in more than an hour, "Be careful, Al."

"Jesus, Matt," he said under his breath. "When am I not?"

Matthew pursed his lips at that and didn't answer directly as he turned his focus back to the computer screen. "He fucked you up pretty badly. Just..." He shook his head.

"Don't get fucked up again?" Alfred offered. "I hear you loud and clear don't worry."

Matthew sighed, nodding slightly, but not looking up again, "Make sure you don't get caught."

"Yeah yeah," Alfred said casually, pulling on his bomber jacket, having cleaned and stitched it back together.

Matthew drew a deep breath and looked up, meeting Alfred's eyes, "Good luck."

"Don't be so sappy," Alfred said, leaning down and ruffling Matthew's hair before looping for the door.

Matthew watched him go, straightening his hair out and going back to what he was doing. The moment he was outside the room, Alfred was checking his phone again.

There was one more text waiting for him, simply reading "Aquarium."

Arthur's voice came from the direction of the first landing on the stairs near the door, "Where are you going?"

"Out," Alfred said, sitting down to pull his boots on.

"On your own?" His uncle came a couple of steps down the stairs.

"Is that not allowed now or something?"

"I didn't say that, but it's a new height of stupidity considering how things stand currently."

"I want a burger and my head is going to explode if I look at these walls anymore," Alfred said, tying the laces.

"And going out alone when we don't even have a broken non-aggression pact is not wise. Take someone with you," Arthur said, the words an order but his tone almost concerned.

"Seriously?" Alfred demanded.

"You're going to ignore anything I say about this, aren't you?" Arthur said, his eyes narrowing.

"Do you trust me to be you heir or not?"

"I named you heir, didn't I?"

"Then let me get a burger and a walk in peace," Alfred said.

Arthur tensed at that, knowing he had actually avoided the question with his own response, but nodded, "Very well. Just watch you back."

Alfred gave him a sloppy two fingered salute. "Will do, sir."

Shaking his head, Arthur continued down the stairs to the kitchen where he had been going for tea. Alfred stood there for another few seconds before booking it out the door. He almost ran the whole way out of the English territory.

Kiku was waiting for him in one of the blind spots of the aquarium security cameras in an empty room, his gaze focused across the room on the wall of glass behind which the octopi moved through the water.

"Oh, they're out and active today," Alfred remarked, striding past him to stand closer to the glass so anyone coming in might not assume they were together. It was also the only time recently where he hadn't thrown caution to the wind to touch Kiku when they first saw each other.

Kiku twitched slightly at the intentional distance between them, "Yes."

"It's nice they get to have friends," he said, not turning around. "You know, instead of just being one stuck by themselves in a cage."

"Social creatures. It would be cruel to keep them apart," Kiku murmured. "Alfred."

"Yeah?" Alfred asked, not turning around.

"I am sorry for what I said. I was scared, and angry, and you did not deserve that directed entirely at you."

Alfred shrugged. "I wasn't making it easier."

"No," Kiku agreed quietly. "But that does not mean I was right to do so."

"We can both say we didn't do the right thing," Alfred said.

Kiku nodded very slightly, "Mei is going to be alright. It will be a long recovery, but she will recover."

Something relaxed in Alfred's shoulders. "Good."

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, you know," Alfred shrugged,

"I am sorry it took me so long to contact you," Kiku murmured, watching Alfred from where he stood.

"You had stuff to work out," Alfred said.

"Yes, but still."

"Look, are you asking me to say I forgive you or be happy about it or something? Look, I get it and that's what I can give you right now."

"No." Kiku said firmly, "I am asking you to look at me."

Alfred tensed before slowly turning around. "Yeah? Didn't know how angry you still were."

"I am not angry at you," Kiku said after a moment. "Not, not anymore. Not really."

"Not really?" Alfred pressed carefully.

"I am still angry about what you said at the meeting, but not as much as I was."

"Well," Alfred said after a beat. "I guess that's something."

"How upset with me are you?" Kiku asked after a moment.

"Still trying to figure it out, honestly," Alfred said.

Kiku nodded once at that answer, "Alright."

"Alright?" Alfred asked. "That's just alright?"

"What do you wish me to say? I want us to work through this but I, I am out of my depth here," Kiku said.

"I think everyone is," Alfred said. "When it comes to relationships I mean. We're just... worse at it then most people."

"Do you think we can make this work?" Kiku asked, softly enough that it seemed he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," Alfred said.

Kiku's fingers twitched and he spared barely a glance for where he knew the security cameras were before he reached toward Alfred, "I am glad."

"I'm not saying we're not stupid or this isn't going to be hard but—"

"Of course it is, and of course we are. We knew that already," Kiku said. "But I want it to work regardless."

"Then we make it work, yeah?" Alfred said, holding his hand.

Kiku twined their fingers together and nodded, "Yes. We make it work."

"That wasn't so hard to figure out was it?" Alfred asked, almost joking.

Kiku's lips twitched upward into a small smile, "No, not too hard at all."

Alfred swallowed hard. "But, you said, she'll be better right?"

Kiku nodded, "She woke up while we were at the meeting. The doctors say that she should make a full recovery."

"I tried to shoot in the air," Alfred said. "Arthur yelled at me and I just—" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. My intentions don't change what happened. But I tried to do—anything else."

"I know you did not mean to hurt her," Kiku said. "I needed distance to calm down about it, but I have always known that."

"But things like this are gonna keep happening," Alfred said. "You asked me what I would do if it was Matt but the reality is that it _could_ be."

Kiku nodded, "I know. We were, unrealistic before."

"Think we can make ourselves be realistic?" Alfred laughed, strained.

"We will have to," Kiku said.

"Yeah," Alfred said. "One changing world view coming right up."

"Two changing world views. Yours and mine."

"Think we could get a side of fries with that order?" Alfred asked with a wry smile, holding both of Kiku's hands.

Kiku offered him a faint smile, "I do not know about fries, but maybe milkshakes?"

"How about both?" Alfred said and finally leaned down, not quite kissing him.

Kiku spared a brief glance for the room before stretching up just enough to kiss Alfred briefly, "Both is a good option."

Alfred wrapped both his hands around the back of Kiku's head, pulling him into another kiss. Fingers curling around the lapels of Alfred's bomber jacket, Kiku went up on his toes, making a soft sound in the back of his throat.

Alfred pulled him closer before obviously loosening his grip and leaning back. "Jesus," he muttered, more to himself then Kiku. Kiku rocked back down onto his heels, his eyes wide and his lips parted ever so slightly. "Baby," Alfred started and cut himself off.

Kiku blinked rapidly, finally uncurling his fingers from the front of Alfred's coat, "I..."

"In public," Alfred managed. "We should, uh, have some decorum..."

The laugh that caught in Kiku's throat at that was pitched a little too high, "We should. Yes."

Alfred stared at him before he shoved forward, pressing Kiku's back into the nearest wall and practically picking him up when he kissed him again. Kiku's hands gripped Alfred's shoulders as he pressed into the kiss, his lips parting and his breath catching. Alfred made a whimpering sound, pressing closer, his hands holding Kiku's waist and bunching in the fabric there. Kiku's right hand moved to tangle in the hair at the nape of Alfred's neck as he pulled himself closer.

"We should—" Alfred started and broke off.

Kiku nodded, "Not do this here."

Alfred squinted at him and then dived back into the kiss. Kiku made a low sound in the back of his throat as he pulled himself closer to Alfred, leaving no space between them.

"I do not see the appeal—" A voice said behind them and Alfred froze in shock for a moment too long to jerk back. 

"Shut up and read the map," Gilbert said, walking into the darkened room. "I give up on—" and he came to a complete stop.

Kiku paled, his eyes darting from Alfred to where Ivan and Gilbert had just entered.

Gilbert had zoned in on them first, but Ivan had followed his eyes by the time Alfred actually realized what was happening and tried to stumble away.   
"Holy shit," Gilbert settled on finally.

Kiku tried to calm his breathing from where he could feel it speeding up alarmingly as he smoothed his clothes down and sidestepped away from Alfred, his back still to the wall, "Mr. Braginski, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Well, I see you made up," Gilbert said. 

'Eh?" Ivan looked down at him as Alfred's jaw dropped. 

"What the fuck do you me—that _fucking_ brother of yours!"

"Alfred," Kiku's tone was warning, though his gaze was fixed on Gilbert. "Ludwig told you, did he not?"

"He brought it up," Gilbert said and Ivan had his head cocked to one side. "Before the meeting."

Kiku looked for a moment like he was considering actually cursing, but he shook his head once to clear it and turned his attention to Ivan. "Are you going to tell Yao?" He mentally winced at the way his voice wavered almost imperceptibly on the end of the question.

"What am I telling Yao?" Ivan asked, blinking and Gilbert looked between Alfred's glower and Ivan's vacant expression.

Kiku looked taken aback by that, glancing almost automatically toward Alfred before realizing there wasn't going to be an answer there and looking toward Gilbert and then back to Ivan, "I, I don't—"

Gilbert rolled his eyes heavenward. "Jesus," he told the ceiling. "Jones, a word?"

"What about?" Alfred asked. 

"Your incredible gall for one," Gilbert said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the tank with the octopi, leaving Ivan and Kiku by the door.  
Kiku watched them go with wide eyes before turning his full attention back to Ivan.

Ivan blinked after Gilbert, before turning back to Kiku, the map for the aquarium still in his hands from where Gilbert shoved it there. "Hello," he said, hesitant. "I'm not sure we've met officially."

"No, we have not," Kiku hesitated for a moment before offering his hand, "Kiku Honda."

Ivan blinked before accepting the hand but not giving his full name back. "Hello."

"I am glad to officially meet you," Kiku said, speaking honestly.

"Are you?" Ivan asked, brows going up.

Kiku nodded, "Yes."

"Are you sure?" Ivan asked, head tilted to the side and smile too forced.

Kiku watched him for a moment, "I would not have said it if I was not."

"Then you are a rare creature in this town," Ivan said.

His head turned at the sounds of Gilbert's voice hitching higher. "—Beyond which, kissing in the damned _aquarium_ Jones! The aquarium! Are you stupid or do you have a death wish?"

"I don't—" Alfred started, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 

"You motherfucking sure?" Gilbert asked.

Kiku paled slightly, his gaze moving toward Gilbert and Alfred. Ivan had also turned all the way around. 

"Could you possibly say that any louder?" Alfred hissed.

"Well at least it's good you made up since the meeting," Gilbert said at the same time Alfred startled. 

"What?" he squeaked. 

"Look, if Ludwig knows, I probably know," Gilbert said and Ivan tensed abruptly. Kiku spared a glance at Ivan before taking half a step toward Gilbert and Alfred. "And Jones I have a lot of secrets right now what the hell are you thinking?"

"No one comes here!" Alfred snapped. "Not usually not—" and he paused, clearly processing what was going on. "Oh my god are you on a _date_?"

Kiku didn't cover his face at that, but he was tempted, "Alfred..."

"You do not get to call me whipped right now, Jones," Gilbert said, jabbing a finger in his chest. "So don't even go there."

Kiku stepped up next to Alfred, speaking quietly, "I should get home before I'm missed." He glanced from Gilbert to Ivan and back, still worried about what Yao might hear.

"Don't think I'm not mad at you too," Gilbert said, turning his finger to point at Kiku, "I just know you a lot less personally."

Kiku nodded slightly, "But you will not tell Yao or Arthur?"

"No," Gilbert agreed.

"We won't?" Ivan asked in some surprise.

"Hell no," Gilbert said, looking up at him and Alfred had gone white as a sheet, staring at Ivan and practically quivering in the desire to do something.

Kiku watched Ivan for a moment, forcing his voice to remain steady as he spoke again, "Thank you."

Ivan looked at Kiku another moment before inclining his head. "You're welcome," he muttered, not quite pleased.

Kiku hesitated for a moment, "I should—I should go."

"Alright," Ivan chirped and Alfred started to lean back closer to Kiku.

"And I'll, uh, go too," he said, warily watching Ivan.

Kiku nodded once, his attention shifting to Ivan again, "I am glad to have met you. Good day." He glanced toward Gilbert, "To both of you."

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "Try not to trip and screw up again on the way out."

"You're not cute," Alfred snapped and Gilbert grinned at him. Kiku spared one last glance for them before slipping out of the room toward the exit.

Ivan and Gilbert were left standing in the dark room. "So," Ivan said. "We're keeping that secret?"

"Yeah," Gilbert said, taking his hand and twining their fingers together. "Unless there's a good reason not to."

"No good one," Ivan allowed. 

"Thanks, babe," Gilbert said, kissing his cheek. "I promise Jones isn't really that bad." Ivan looked at him like he didn't believe it at all.


End file.
